


Notes on the margins

by xl_tt



Category: Death Note
Genre: Café, Chocolate, Dating, F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Slice of Life, Smut, Some of them are gender unspecified
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-05-27 22:25:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6302617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xl_tt/pseuds/xl_tt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one shots centred around the characters from Death Note <strike>that I'm overdue by a nice couple of years.</strike> They mostly aren't linked (at least not tightly) to one another, some even might contradict or overlay each other in themes. Usually positive/uplifting things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mello - Noodle

**Author's Note:**

> I'll gladly take some nice prompts, too. ♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with Mello and Matt is not the cleanest and most hygienic thing one could end up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning.

Bloody groceries were heavy. 

They were for three people, supposedly, although I knew I would eat most of it by myself —�� preparing food is, of course, too time-taking to worry about, so in Mello's and Matt's world, the idea of it was nearly non-existent, unless someone else was doing the preparing part.

The mysterious someone being me.

I made my way into the stinky elevator and pressed the button.

And so is cleaning. God fucking dammit.

 _Always empty_ , I thought as I entered the tiny flat on the 14th floor. It was fifth or sixth flat we had switched to since we had come to Tokyo, as claustrophobic as all of the previous ones. I didn't even bother myself with unpacking, only glancing with distaste at the haphazardly organised suitcases in every space that was still free of whatever trash — mostly food packaging — that Matt and Mello had been leaving behind every time we arrived at some new spot.

It was one huge mess and living in a huge mess like that one made me upset, to say the least.

I had sworn to myself that I would not be cleaning after them, not even a single scrap of paper, not a tiniest crumb. But when I stepped onto a plastic bowl of half-eaten cold noodles, I had enough of it. I wiped my shoe into the carpet and walked over to leave the groceries in the kitchen.

“No... more... fucking... trash...” I drawled through my teeth as I gathered my clothes and half-pressed-half-pushed them into my worn suitcase, each word accented with another piece of clothing shoved into the overloaded space. “No... more... fucking... rotten... leftovers... on... the... floor...”

I looked around the claustrophobic bedroom, checking for anything else that I might have forgotten, and I spotted Mello's stack of chocolate bars. A vicious, lopsided smirk spread my lips. I pulled out my tote bag, removed the stash of socks from it, and loaded it full with the sweets, leaving just one on the bedside table. After a brief moment of consideration, I unpacked the lone bar and took away all of the chocolate from it save for one tiny square. My smirk widened as I wrote a note, slipped it into the paper packaging and sealed it carefully. At first glance, no one could guess it had been tampered with.

“Revenge, motherfucker,” I mumbled, stomping on my suitcase to zip it. Once I was done, I placed the fresh groceries into the tote with chocolate, took Mello's other wallet from the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, swung the tote over my shoulder, picked up my baggage, and left the flat, not bothering to take the keys with me.

“If most of the time I spend in those fucking pigsties I spend alone, then I can just as much spend it in my fucking own,” I growled to myself, walking out into the midday sun. A black wig, huge sunglasses, and a medical mask was very much of use, and thank goodness that in Tokyo it was nothing out of ordinary. 

I grinned to myself as I caught a cab, feeling too lazy to walk additional 100 metres to the nearest bus stop.

After all, Mello was paying.

* * *

Mello knew it was bad the second after he walked into the flat.

Her keys were laying on the carpet, between Matt's Tuesday noodles (it was Friday), four crumpled chocolate packagings, two empty cigarette packs, three dirty chopsticks, and one of Matt's yesterday's socks.

Groceries were not in the flat.

Her suitcase wasn't in the flat.

 _She_ wasn't in the flat.

His chocolate wasn't in the flat.

_His chocolate. It wasn't. In the. Flat._

No, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Zip it.

 _SHE_ wasn't in the flat.

Mello headed towards the bedroom. He stepped right into Matt's cold noodles.

“Fuck!”

He shook his leg, sending pieces of stinky leftovers all over the floor, until his boot was somewhat cleaner. While he was doing so, he noticed a foot-shaped stain with noodle bits a couple of inches from where he was standing, and it clicked in immediately.

“Well shit.” Mello sighed and rubbed his face. He reached to his pocket to get a new chocolate bar... but there was none. He ran out.

His eyes slowly wandered to the lone, pristine bar on the bedside table. The setting sun shone right onto it, making it look particularly nice and inviting. Melted chocolate wasn't bad at all.

Mello wiped the sole of his boot into the carpet and darted to claim the unsuspecting prey.

He knew something was off at the exact moment when he picked it up.

It was too light.

He heard the front door open and for a second he hoped it was her, but he also knew that she didn't have her keys, so that left only one option.

“Maaaaatt...”

“Whaddya do this time?” Matt asked from the kitchen. The microwave beeped twice and then it began heating up whatever artificial food monstrosity Matt had brought with him. He skipped into the bedroom on one leg, shaking the other to get rid of the cold noodles that he must have stepped in on his way.

“Your fucking fodder.” Mello muttered blankly, opening the packaging and turning it upside down. One tiny bit of chocolate and a scrap of paper fell onto his palm.

“Huh?” Matt peeked over his shoulder at the massacred plastic bowl and the noddles that were now all over the carpet. “You stepped on that, too?”

“You, me, and _her_.”

Matt shrugged, unmoved.

“Ouch. Whaddshe write?”

Mello reached out his hand, almost shoving the note into Matt's face.

_Happy diet, noodle :)_

“There's a shop literally five steps down the street,” Matt said, unimpressed.

Mello closed his eyes.

“They don't have this chocolate there. They don't sell this brand in the whole fucking Japan.”

Matt patted his shoulder with pity.

“Happy diet, noodle.”

“Those are YOUR FUCKING NOODLES!”

* * *

“Bless this bathtub,” I murmured, stretching my legs under the foam and bubbles in the hot water. “Bless this deluxe hotel apartment. Bless the five bags of new clothes.”

I glanced at the clock that I could see through the open bathroom door. Three o'clock.

“He won't be here for another two hours, if he gets to the flat as usual. He only needs to check where I used his card and then get here. That shouldn't take long now, should it?” I asked the bubbles that had accidentally formed a goofy face. “Pizza, you say? In such a posh, Japanese hotel? That's so lame, Lord Bubbles.”

I straightened my leg, sending a wave that slid up and down the perfectly white porcelain wall of the bathtub.

“Pizza it is, Lord Bubbles.”

* * *

I dressed myself up in a pretty, horrifyingly expensive set of a lacy nightgown that reached halfway down my thighs and lingerie (actually just panties and stockings; I had thrown on a loose dress for when I was taking my pizza from a slightly puzzled delivery guy, and pulled it right off when I was alone again). I sat on the huge bed that had silk covers. I had a book in one hand, a steaming slice in the other, and ate as unattractively as any person alone in their room can eat without anyone to witness it.

Not that it would be in any way shocking to my two regular flatmates. When it came to Mello, chocolate was the only thing that he could eat in an enticing, sexy way without any effort.

Once I was full, I closed the box and set it on one of the tables in the huge room. I looked at the clock.

“About ten minutes now.” I shrugged and without any hurry, I went to brush my teeth.

Five minutes later, I plopped onto the bed and stared through the enormous window at the night cityscape. I turned all the lights off, save for a small, rather shy lamp in the far corner of the bedroom that was enough to give some shapes to the interior and create a barely noticeable mirror effect on the window, but without obscuring the outside view.

It didn't take long until in the faint reflection I saw the door to the apartment open soundlessly and an easily recognisable figure sneaked in.

“Took you long enough, noodle,” I said, not bothering to turn to look at him.

“Where's my chocolate?” Mello hissed, clearly irritated. I gritted my teeth and waved in a general direction of my suitcase, where the tote bag should be.

He quickly approached the spot and dug out one bar, hurriedly unwrapping it and digging in.

“You should've said something,” he mumbled and bit off another piece.

“Huh? Not my fault that it enters one of your ears and then comes out right through the other without leaving any notice,” I said with venom. “Maybe you'd pay attention if you weren't constantly constipating yourself.”

Mello walked over to the bed and sat down behind me. Another crunch, another bite.

“So... you want to have your own place from now on?” he asked.

“No,” I drawled, turning onto my back and staring at him with an angry scowl. “I want a fucking place that won't look like a god damn garbage dump two hours after we move in and that doesn't have all of its surfaces sticky enough to worry whether I'd have to depilate myself and rip my clothes when I get up.”

Mello ran his fingers through his hair with a sour expression.

“I guess it's possible to pull off...” he said slowly.

“I'm not being a fucking cleaning lady for the two of you any more, been there, done that, every single fucking time,” I barked, frowning at him.

“How about we take turns or something?” Mello sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You two take turns.” I smiled with mocked sweetness. “I have three years of mine behind me. And just so you'd know...” I added sadistically. “I know that they don't sell your beloved brand in Japan. If either you or Matt fuck up, you are going on a diet again. And don't bother making any secret stashes, I always find them.”

Mello finished his chocolate and rolled onto the bed next to me.

“I guess I have no choice then, have I?” He smirked, running his eyes from my head to my toes. “Nice outfit. I don't think I've seen it on you before.”

“You bought it for me today,” I said nonchalantly, smoothing the fine fabric in a graceful gesture.

“I do have a brilliant taste, eh?” His smirk widened as his fingers skimmed my chin.

“Don't flatter yourself.” I snorted, casually brushing off one of my shoulder straps, exposing more of my skin as he watched intently. “The only things you have a good taste for are me and chocolate.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, leaning closer. “Or maybe not. Who cares.”

“My sense of cleanness.”

“Oh? It's a separate consciousness now?”

“Maybe. Or maybe not. Who cares?”

Mello sighed and rolled his icy eyes.

“I'll give you an example of your awful taste,” I offered. “You are overdressed for the occasion.”

“Am I now?” He pondered. “I guess you are right. My taste is no fucking good. How can I fix this?”

“Mm... first, take this off,” I ordered, hooking my finger at his leather vest.

“As you wish.” He sat up and unzipped the thing, then pulling it off and throwing it carelessly on the floor. I stared shamelessly at his bare torso, all pale skin over wiry muscles. How he kept such a perfect figure with all the chocolate he ate was beyond me.

I clicked my tongue, pretentiously tilting my head.

“That's a little better, but...”

“I'm getting the hang of it.” Mello smirked sarcastically, unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his trousers. I nodded, raising my eyebrows, silently ordering him to continue while I reached into the hive of pillows and pulled out an untouched chocolate bar. Once Mello was done taking off everything save for his underwear, I treated him to one little bite.

“You are the best teacher I've ever met.” He bit his lips and skimmed my chin again. “And the sexiest, too.”

“Trying flattery on me now, are you?” I gave him an unimpressed look.

“Isn't flattery supposed to be all fucking lies?” Mello snorted, turning onto his back.

“That's part of the job, isn't it?” I murmured, allowing Mello to pull me onto his hips. I straddled him and leaned down until my nose brushed his.

“You are not a job,” he replied just as quietly against my lips before his fingers dived into my hair and he kissed me slowly, thoughtfully.

Mello was wrapped around emotions, often strong surges that radiated in the air around him; some of those, however, while not as visual or easily noticeable for someone unfamiliar, were way more intense and felt powerful under the tips of my fingers that trailed over his smooth skin. Addictive even.

Oh yes. Mello was _addictive_.

And I had so much of him all to myself.

Mello hooked his thumb under the second strap of my nightgown and let it slip. I was bent forward and almost touching his torso with mine, so when the front of my outfit dipped down, it exposed everything underneath. He broke the kiss to take a good look at my breasts with the same smile he makes when he takes the first bite of newly unpacked chocolate.

I straightened up, removed my arms from the straps completely, and let the silk freely flow down to my waist.

“No lies here,” he whispered, tracing his hands from my hips, up my waist and ribs, to cup my breasts and circle my nipples with his thumbs. I tilted my chin up and sighed. I rolled my hips against his and was rewarded with the smallest groan.

Mello sat up, too, and hugged me closely, at first digging his fingers into my back, then running his hands down to give my butt a firm squeeze.

“No lies here either,” he hissed, brushing the shell of my ear with his lips. One of his arms held me up, fingers of the other boldly went to my underwear and trailed along my covered slit. I clasped my fingernails on his shoulders and let out a breathy moan into the crook of his neck.

“Neither this did sound like one,” Mello remarked in a hushed, raspy voice. One of his fingers sneaked underneath my panties and dipped between my folds, checking how wet they had already become.

“Nor this detail here...”

I moved my hand down to cup his erection that was still hidden in his boxers. Mello gritted his teeth and bit my shoulder.

“You are such a tease, though,” he mumbled.

“Oh?” I smirked, paying no mind that he couldn't see it, not when my face was buried in the side of his neck. “And it's _you_ who dares to say that?”

The finger that had been exploring my slit entered me all of a sudden and I gasped, scratching his skin a little.

“I'm waiting for you to say it,” Mello murmured directly into my ear.

I closed my eyes, smiling a genuine smile this time, still hidden. I pressed a line of butterfly kisses up his neck and along his jaw, ending up at his lips as his finger pushed in and out of me at a painfully slow pace. Mello hummed and sank into the kiss. He trailed his tongue over my lower lip and without further warning he slipped it in between my teeth.

He added a second finger and my moan was muffled between our lips.

“Mihael...” I whined after I pulled back an inch or two, knowing exactly how much it turned him on when I was using his actual name. “Mihael, please...”

He nibbled at my lower lip, saying nothing, but clearly urging me to continue.

“I want you— mhhh...” I sighed when he sped up the movement of his fingers. “Mihael, please, I want you...”

“You want me how exactly?” he inquired in a low voice, staring directly into my eyes. His own eyes were their usual icy blue, as different from the colour of his beloved chocolate as possible, but at that moment, they seemed to have possessed that warm and sweet tone, a truly rare sight even for me.

“I want you inside me, Mihael...” I purred, looking back at him intensely. “Deep inside me... you always make me feel so— ahnnn... —so good... Mihael...”

“Mhmm...” Mello hummed, kissing me again, fervently, affectionately. He lay on his back again and pulled me forward until I had no choice but to support myself on my hands; he snaked his hands to his boxers and took them off nearly in a hurry.

“Come here...” he whispered, grabbing my hips to direct me onto him. I moved the bit of my panties aside, squeezed my eyelids shut and opened my mouth in a silent moan when we slowly connected. He let out a deep sigh and dug his fingernails into my skin.

I placed my hands on his chest and rose my hips up just to slam them back down onto his. A shiver ran down my spine.

“Mihael...”

“Come on...” he uttered through a clenched throat, using his arms to skip me up and down on him, coaxing small, breaking moans from me. I straightened up and threw my head back with a gasp when he struck a particularly sensitive spot inside me.

“I love seeing you like this,” he panted, tracing his eyes along my figure, from my focused face to my gently bouncing breasts, to my stomach, to my core, to watch where we were connected.

“Mm— M-hhhaah...” I tried to say his name again, but proved rather difficult in my state of haze.

“Please, say it,” he murmured, raising his hands to massage my breasts. “Please.”

“Mmmm... Mihael...” I clenched my teeth and scratched down his chest, leaving angry red lines. “Mihaeeeel...”

“More!”

“Mihael, Mihael... Mihaeeeeel!”

Mello sat up and I clang to him, rather rolling my hips than bouncing on him by now. He captured my lips in a vicious, exuberant kiss, squeezing his fingers on my hips so hard that it was bound to leave bruises.

“Come on, say my name, say it again.” It wasn't an order, more like a request on a verge of plea — that was Mello bared from underneath all his layers of intimidation and sarcasm — subtle, almost gentle of sorts.

Almost. The bruises and scratches we both collected after our times we spent alone together marked that _almost_.

“M-Mihael...” I barely whispered between my fast, shallow breaths.

“That's right, come on, more,” he murmured into my ear and nibbled my earlobe. One of his hands let go of my hip and trailed down to rub my clit. I gasped loudly into his shoulder. “Come on!”

“Mihael... Mihael, Mihael— Mihael!” I yelped the last one, arching my back and scratching his skin again, this time without reservation. The delightful hot coil below my belly was at its tightest point, about to snap any time.

“Come on, sweetie,” Mello hissed through clenched teeth, clearly doing his best to last a little longer for me. Once I realised that, I opened my eyes and pulled back to look right into his. They were unfocused and glassy, and seemed somewhat damp above his pale cheeks that were currently warmed up with a lovely blush and a bit shiny with sweat.

So I let go.

“Mihael, Mihaeeeel!” I moaned aloud, closing my eyes and shuddering in his arms, speeding up my sway, hopelessly trying to match his wild rhythm. I threw my head back and he leaned down to bury his face between my breasts, gasping for air, holding me still in an iron grip when he bucked his hips up hard into me.

Everything slowed down and Mello's fingers loosened to stroke gentle circles over the places where a new set of bruises was going to form soon. He let out a deep breath and wrapped his arms around me. I cuddled close, doing my best to calm my panting.

“See?” He mumbled, struggling to keep it coherent. “No lies here.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed. “Mihael?”

I felt him smile against the side of my neck.

“Yeah?”

“I miss you.”

“I'm here, am I not?” Mello snorted.

“Yeah, the second time in the last five weeks,” I muttered, feeling my mood fall down from the 10th floor onto a pavement.

There was a moment of silence.

“Five weeks?”

“You didn't even notice.” I tilted my head to the side, away from his face.

More silence.

“Our second anniversary was two weeks ago,” I continued quietly. “Not that I'm big on this stuff, but still. I spent it alone, stuffing myself with pizza and ice-cream, and watching fucking cats on youtube after I tried to call you five times. You didn't even ever call me back. I spent the New Year's Eve and Day alone, too.”

Silence.

“I fucked up.” He said finally.

“Yeah. And this...” I bit my lips for a second. “ _This Kira case_... it gives me bad vibes. I really don't like it.”

“It won't take much longer, he's cornered,” Mello said. “Finally. Just a little bit more.”

“I don't like this,” I whispered.

“I'm gonna take you to Kyoto, and to Nara, and anywhere you want after I'm done with it, what say you? I'll make it up to you, this whole fuck up, you know I don't step down from promises like this.” He pressed a big, tender kiss to my neck.

I choked out something between a laugh and a sob.

“I know you don't.”

“Good.” Mello cupped my face and pulled me into a long, heartfelt kiss. We broke apart and I smirked.

“Remember you promised that you and Matt would always clean up after yourselves, too.”

Mello's head fell forward until his forehead bumped onto my shoulder.

“Fuck.”

“There is no way in the world for you to run from that, noodle.” I laughed, hugging him closer.


	2. Mello - Soot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did say that this oneshot collection is "mostly uplifting". But don't worry, xl_tt won't leave ya hanging around like this for long. I actually do have a nice streak in my salty brain.

The place was so... disappointing.

I took off my helmet and hung it on the handlebar. I left my motorcycle behind me, automatically shoving the keys into my pocket and unzipping my riding jacket.

It wasn't even raining. Rain would be more suitable for the occasion.

No, the sun was up and bright, birds were chirping, first hints of Spring grass poking from between yesteryear's brown and yellow dead patches. Even snowdrops were there. Lots of them.

I took out an unpacked chocolate bar and glanced at it for a moment before my eyes shifted to the ruins in front of me.

What was that even? A church? A chapel? Quite a rare sight in Japan. The crumbled walls were more pathetic than inspiring, evoking pity and dismissal more than longing and melancholy. Moss had been clinging to every available surface, taking its slow, patient crawl upwards throughout the years, but it was now dried to the last drop and charred to black wherever the fire touched it.

I approached the wide entrance and peered over the skeletal remains of the ceiling beams and whatever else fell when the flames were gnawing away at the building, and—

I bit my lips.

There were plenty of tire and foot tracks embedded in the mud around, soot spread along them like it was nothing. That was all they had left behind: the ruins and the soot. The bodies had been taken, the truck had been hauled away. There weren't even any ashes any more, all had been washed and mixed into the ground with rain during the time I was convincing myself to see the place.

And here I was, disappointed.

“Really?” I mumbled. “Really?”

I bowed to walk under some half-hanging, charred beam and entered the grey and black space. Everything inside was covered in the same old soot, but I ignored it and sat down on some bigger chunk of still joined bricks that had fallen to the ground god knows how long ago. I looked around the wrecked area with a sour scowl.

“Always so much class and style, and this is where you ended up? Here? This pathetic shithole?”

I unwrapped the chocolate bar and stared at it.

“See what I have? This is your chocolate. I'm keeping it and I'm going to eat all of it. I'm gonna constipate myself big time, but it ain't going to waste.”

I bit into it. The crunch that reached my ears probably wasn't any different from any crunching chocolate ever in the world, but it somehow didn't sound right, like some old melody played out of tune.

“I found your secret stash the other day, you dipshit,” I said, munching. “I knew you had some stored away in case I took all the others for whatever fuckery you or Matt would pull out. Consider this my mercy.”

A fluttering shadow descended from the sky; I peeked up just in time to see a small bird diving into a hole in the wall. It was carrying something in its beak. Maybe it was building a nest. Who cared.

“I gotta tell you something about this favourite brand of yours...” I mulled, taking another bite. “This chocolate sucks. If I were someone who's never had chocolate and this would be my first, I'd give up on it entirely.”

One more bite.

“Your taste is fucked up. Remember that pale-green melon chocolate you were obsessed with last year? I'd thought it'd be disgusting, but I ate it last week and it was fantastic, you were right. But I only ate it to piss off Near.”

I scratched my head and sighed. I took one last bite and stuffed the rest back into my pocket.

“I guess he somehow misses you, but I ain't gonna forget that he—” I gulped. “He just put you in place to do this, this fucking motherfucker, and we both know it. You know it. Matt knows it. Ugh...” I closed my eyes. “ _Knew._ You knew it, and Matt knew it. You fucking idiots.”

I bent forward to lean my elbows on my knees and hung my head low.

“And now I'm alone again. You left me all alone, you motherfucker. Fuck your letter, fuck that ticket to Nara, fuck this. We had a promise, you shitstack. This is how you go about our promises now, huh? Fucking disgraceful. I hope you are fucking ashamed, cause you damn should be.”

My eyes prickled and I rubbed them angrily with the back of my wrist.

“And... and _don't wait up, I'm gonna be late_? What the fuck kind of a goodbye is that? You fucking knew where you were going to end up and that's all you could say? Fuck you! And—”

I jumped to my feet. There was no mistake, the roar I heard came from the engine of my motorcycle. I patted my pocket — the keys were still inside.

I jolted out of the chapel just in time to see someone's backside zooming out rapidly on my precious bike. I didn't bother chasing.

“Great.”

I tapped at the small of my back.

“My gun was in the side sack.”

I groped my other pocket.

“And so was my phone.”

I snorted and let myself kneel down and sit back on my heels, not caring about the mud that was soaking into my trousers.

“What a fine day.”

I closed my eyes, tilted my chin up and laughed until I was out of breath. Once I paused to inhale, I stood up and faced the ruins once more. My smile washed away.

“Was it that important?” I asked quietly. “So important that you decided it would be best to throw yourself away like that and leave me behind? How does that make you number one? It just makes you a loser. Near's the winner here, not you, not both you and Near together. It's him. Only him. Kicking bucket disqualifies.”

I swallowed thickly and rubbed my face.

“So this was more important than us, too. And here I thought you actually felt otherwise.” I smirked as I stood up and gazed blankly at my dirty trousers. “So. That shitstain Yagami is dead, what now? Happy ending? Oh yeah, right, let the forever-young Near have it. Aaaaall for himself.”

I lifted my stare back to the ruins.

“You know what?”

I swung my leg, sending a wave of muddy water towards the chapel.

“I'm done talking.”

I clenched my fists.

“Yeah. I'm done.”

I tightened my lips.

“Done.”

I bit into my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I'm going now.”

A deep frown ridged my forehead.

“I'm leaving.”

A small bird flew in between the charred remains.

“I'm turning around and really leaving now.”

I gritted my teeth.

“You can't stop me, I'm seriously walking away.”

My chest was heaving with every sharp breath.

“And I'm not coming back! Is that what you want?!”

My features tightened into a desperate scowl.

“ _That's what you want, MELLO?!_ ”

I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling not to let any tears out.

“Mihael...?” I tried to utter, but it left my lips in a tiny, pathetic, almost inaudible squeak.

  
  
It's too quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially wanted to turn this around and make Mello miraculously appear and stuff, but nah. I'll leave this one as it is. But please don't lose hope yet.


	3. Mello - Strawberry, raspberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was the letter that he had left behind, and there was the list of places and the tickets enclosed to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“Stuff written like this” _are quotes from the certain letter.__  
>  A tiny smut mention.  
> Feels.

_Narakoen is amazing, I have to admit that._

_Just like I expected._

_The flowers are amazing._

_Cherry trees are amazing._

_These mochi I bought on my way here are amazing, too._

I took another little bite, doing my best to focus on the sweetness and trying to cover the bitterness I had been tasting the past weeks.

_I don't feel amazing._

I sucked on my teeth and sat down on the nearest bench, next to a tiny old lady who was reading some newspaper. She glanced at me like I had just insulted her, so I stood up, bowed, and left to find an empty bench.

_“I'm sorry I didn't say a proper goodbye.”_

I pinched my lips. A free bench was hidden in the shade of a very old tree; perhaps it was left alone in fear of having some dead branch falling down on an unaware head. I plopped down and closed my eyes to breathe in the fresh smell of my surroundings.

_“You know you wouldn't let me go if I said anything. I have to do it.”_

“Bullshit,” I mumbled to myself. “All bullshit.”

_“I've gone through all the lines and this one is the only way.”_

“So what...?”

_“I know you are mad.”_

“You ain't even close.”

_“I know I promised to take you to see places, well, I didn't say I'd go with you. I know I'm disgusting for that. Sorry. But I do want to take you places, so... please, will you do this for me? Just go along the list.”_

“At least I do keep my word as it is,” I murmured, opening my eyes to watch a small bird bathing in a puddle. It was the same kind that I saw two weeks prior in those burned ruins... I pulled another mochi from the paper bag and ate a half in one bite.

_Strawberry._

* * *

_“Happy Birthday, dumbass.” I snorted, removing my hands from his eyes to let him see the cake._

_A frown._

_“It's... not chocolate?”_

_I stared at him plainly._

_“It's strawberry. And don't you dare to complain. You eat chocolate all the time, have a change. Now, blow out the candles.”_

_“You actually did put 20 of them...”_

_“I can count. Surprise.”_

_Later that night, when Mihael's hips were cradled between my thighs and the gentle whisper of skin on skin was melting with our quiet moans of each other's names, for once in a long time we could pretend that everything was all right._

* * *

_I wonder if he knew back then already._

I tilted my head up and looked into the sky, patches of deep blue poking out between the blossoming branches. My sunglasses tinted it purple. Not a single cloud. A yawn hit my mouth from the inside and I rubbed my eyes, I hadn't been sleeping well and it was showing in my shine-less, bloodshot eyes, on the deep, sunken shadows beneath them, in my matted hair, in my washed out colours and fingernails bitten raw during the cold, restless hours.

“Shitsureishimasu...?”

I straightened my back and gazed at a young woman in what was, I would have guessed, the most common outfit of a stereotypical Japanese book accountant. She was staring at me with a slightly embarrassed expression.

“Um... English?” I smiled awkwardly.

“Oh.” She bit her lips, then pointed at the bench I was sitting on. “I can sit?”

“Yes, sure.” I shuffled a little to the side.

“Thank you.”

I nodded.

_I'm so tired._

I glanced at my watch. 

_My shinkansen leaves in three hours, but if I take a nap here, someone will probably ask me to leave._

I closed my eyes.

_I should have been taking lots of photos, and visit the shrines, see the temples, and eat local food, and get wasted on sake, and do all this tourist stuff, but what's the point? I don't have anyone to share it with. No one is waiting home – not that there is a home to begin with._

_Besides, it would just remind me why am I here alone._

I sighed.

I wasn't paying attention to the shuffling footsteps behind the bench – clearly stomping on the young Spring grass – until the person was directly behind me. I frowned, opening my eyes, but my vision was instantly blocked by someone's hands. I heard as the woman next to me stood up and hurriedly walked away. All air left my lungs and I wasn't able to draw in another breath. My heart stopped for a moment until it began hammering against my ribs so violently it hurt.

_I hadn't slept in 36 hours._

_Hallucinations. I'm having hallucinations._

I didn't dare to move, scared to the bone of the moment when the sensation would fade and leave me feeling emptier than before. I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lips so hard they throbbed with pain.

_Don't go. Please. Don't—_

I flinched. My eyes fluttered open and I gulped. The woman next to me was calmly eating her lunch, sometimes throwing a rice grain or two to the small bird. I checked my watch.

_It was just 5 minutes._

I slowly glanced behind me to note without surprise that nobody was strolling across the immaculate lawn. I let my head fall down a little, surrounding it with my hunched shoulders. The young leaves, the fresh flowers, the still present droplets of rain on the foliage, the moss, the occasional clear puddles, the singing birds, the people taking their time to admire it all or just marching by in their own business – they seemed so far away and so unreal against me. I was exhausted, unclean, stale, and ill, and I felt like a pathetic impostor among them.

_Did you seriously think I would enjoy this, Mello?_

A gentle breeze picked up, sending pale pink petals everywhere. Some of them settled on my lap and I watched them quietly before I picked them up onto my open palm and blew them away one by one. The woman finished her meal, packed the empty bento into her bag, stood up, bowed, and left. I leaned forward, supported my elbows on my knees and hung my head low. Stray strands escaped from under my wide-brimmed hat and swayed lightly in the wind.

_I'm not sure if I have enough strength to get up and walk right now. I should have taken a nap earlier in that shinkansen._

_And sleep some more the past weeks, too._

I watched the people passing by. Children talking lively among each other and carrying square backpacks, women with shopping bags, women in elegant outfits, teenagers with heavy headphones and in colourful clothes and teenagers in high school uniforms, men in suits, mothers returning home with preschool kids, old ladies dragging little wheeled carts with groceries, men and women talking on their phones, not paying attention to the astonishing nature that they had grown too used to.

_Oh, that one's got “I support Kira” patch on his backpack._

I scowled sourly.

_Fuck you._

_That piece of shit is dead anyway._

_Good riddance._

I took out the last mochi and bit into it without giving it a single look. Another strawberry one. I inhaled deeply through my nose, munching on the sweet paste and dizzily observing the persistent little bird, which was now skipping and flying to and fro, searching for worms or whatever else.

A goth teenager – like straight from Harajuku, all in black and gold, with a ton of piercings, heavy make-up, with bleached blond hair – marched by, spreading intense tones of Dir en grey from underneath the cups of their headphones and gathering disgruntled stares from older folks.

_That's something Mello wouldn't mind wearing._

I had some of Mello's outfits stashed in my suitcase. He was a slim guy; some of his clothes fitted me nicely and years ago I had developed a habit of putting them on sometimes. In fact, I had thrown one of his padded, dark brown vests on earlier this morning.

_Wait... what if that WAS him?_

I darted to my feet and stormed in the same direction as that goth... but they disappeared in the crowd. I stopped. I sighed and gripped the belt of my backpack.

_I really need some sleep._

I rubbed my eyes and sluggishly made my way towards the nearest exit, bowing and apologizing – not in Japanese – every time I involuntarily bumped shoulders with other pedestrians.

* * *

I was nearly sleepwalking by the time I reached the train station, too unfocused and too dazed to think about taking a bus to get there. I dropped onto one of the benches on my platform and struggled to keep my eyes open, knowing that the moment my eyelids would drop, I'd instantly be out of it.

But even despite that, I was slipping down into half-asleep states every couple of minutes, clutching my bag in my arms, blinking more often than necessary, seeing things that shouldn't be there. At some point my brain was telling me that the train to Tokyo that had arrived at platform 5 was aflame. I had a hint of an idea to eat some of the chocolate I had stashed in the top pocket, but my stomach reminded me that I had swallowed a half of a bag of mochi and the concept of adding even more sweet stuff on top was at the very least sickening.

“Coffee... I need coffee...” I mumbled and dragged myself to my feet.

Conveniently for me, a coffee machine was just a couple of steps further and I patiently waited until 3 schoolgirls got their cups before I punched in some change and stabbed the buttons with my fingers, not caring that I slipped one time and chose an extra strong coffee instead of, well, something sane. I drank it anyway, burning my tongue and throat and not paying attention that it was one awfully foul tasting coffee.

_Vacation, my ass._

It gave me a little surge of energy and I managed to not pass out by reading a book and turning up the volume in my earphones. Once my train arrived, I made a beeline for my spot, threw my bag onto the shelf, nested myself in the comfy seat – and my mind shut down.

_Osaka, here I come._

I dreamed of chocolate. The smell was clear and vibrant, the colour was perfect, velvet brown, but I couldn't taste it, it was out of my reach, behind a glass window. It was melting in the sun, escaping the wrapper and staining the tiles it was laying on, and all I could think of was that it was such a waste.

“That's your station.”

I opened my eyes.

Crunch.

_Hallucinations again. I'm not going to look. I can't. I can't bear this._

I grabbed my bag from the shelf and slowly walked to the exit, staring through the windows at the passing cityscape. I shoved my hand into my pocket and glanced at a long list that was attached to Mello's letter.

“So... I have a room booked in... uh... Osaka... ry... uh... god dammit. Ry... o... kan? Osaka Ryokan... O... oma... omo... what...? Ugh, I have no idea what's written here. Your handwriting sucks... I'll have to ask someone.”

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, feeling like I had dry sand swiped under my eyelids.

“I need some sleeping pills, too...”

Two or three people queued behind me when the train slowed down and finally stopped. The door opened and I stepped onto the platform, scowling at the sharp sunlight. I turned around to one of the travellers that left the train with me, intending to ask about the Osaka Ryokan Whatitsayshere.

“Excuse me, could you—”

All the expression from my face vanished.

“... could... you...”

My vision blurred.

“... what...?”

“Hi.”

“... no.”

My eyelids slipped close and a wave of cold rolled over my body. My knees went soft, but with a desperate surge of energy I looked, I locked onto my target, and my fist darted in for a crushing right hook. It connected, but the shocked yelp and the stinging pain in my knuckles were the last things I registered before falling forward – into a warm embrace – and dissipating into unconsciousness.

* * *

_I don't want to open my eyes._

_I had a good dream, I saw what I had wanted too see, and I don't want it to fall apart yet._

_I want to lay here and imagine it wasn't a dream._

_I want to lay here and act like I did land a hit on his nose._

_I want to lay here and pretend that I really saw him and—_

_I want to lay here and—_

_I want—_

An incoherent groan left my lips and I tried to shuffle around, but my limbs were heavy and sluggish and I was too weak to move. No. That wasn't quite right. I felt a soft, fleeting pressure on top of my head and a pair of arms tightened a little around me. That was why it was so difficult to shift.

_Raspberry._

_I know only one person who uses raspberry scented shampoo._

My brain went from 0 to 100 in a fraction of a second.

“What the—”

“Shhhh...”

My eyes shot wide open and I violently twisted around, ripping myself out of the warm grasp with a shriek. I fell from a bed to the floor with another screech, bumping my head on the wood panels and losing my breath at the impact. A head full of dishevelled light hair appeared over the edge of the mattress above me, the expression on the pale face in full alert.

“You all right?”

I stared, unable to speak.

“Are you okay?” The words seemed muffled, reaching my ears in an echo from somewhere far away.

He slipped down from the bed to kneel next to me and my upper half was lifted up to his chest. I stared with my eyes completely round and watering at my lack of blinking.

“Breathe. In...”

I sucked in a gasp, suddenly realising that I forgot to breathe after I found myself on the floor.

“Out...”

I let out a shaky exhale and continued on my own. I shuffled away from him and sat with my back at the side of the bed, not breaking the eye contact. He reached out to take my hand, but I crossed my arms on my chest and shifted even further away. The gathering tears broke through and began trickling down my cheeks. A shiver ran down my spine, then another, spreading around my body and ending with my hands shaking so much that I clasped my fingers on my forearms to stop it. A tight lump gathered in my throat and fled between my teeth in a loud sob.

“Get out...” I mumbled thinly.

My fingers grasped at my hair and I pulled until it hurt, I hid my eyes under the balls of my palms, but I couldn't mask the constricted scowl that twisted my lips, and couldn't control the spasms that shook my body.

“Don't leave me... Get the hell out... Don't...”

_I want to hug him to my chest, I want to never let go, I want to punch him, I want to feel him, I want to kiss him, I want to slap him, I want to bury my face in his hair, I want to break his nose, I want to scream at him, I want to whisper how much I missed him, I want to howl and wail, I want to cry into his shoulder, I want to strangle him, I want to hurt him, I want him to pull me close, I want—_

“Why...” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Why.”

“To keep us safe.” His voice was quiet and broken.

“Matt is dead.”

“I fucked up.”

“You made me believe you are dead.”

“To keep you safe.”

“Three months.”

“I'm sorry.”

“ _Three months._ ”

“I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I fucked up.”

“FUCKED UP?! Do you even know what an understatement that is?! Fucked up isn't even CLOSE!”

“You think I don't know that?!” he cried out, leaning in. His hair swayed forward, tangled, matted, pathetic. “What do you want me to say?! That Matt is dead because of me?! That my best friend is dead because of me?! That I'm a fucking coward and was ashamed and afraid to show myself to you for three months?!” He swallowed thickly and his shoulders slumped. “I know all that,” he said in a shaky exhale. “I know that and it means shit how many times I apologize and beg you to forgive me and how much I'm sorry. It doesn't change a thing about what happened. I know that.”

I let out an uneven sigh.

“Of course you know that,” I muttered.

 _I spent weeks on... on, yeah,_ that _, and he most likely had been mulling this over and over, falling to his knees at the same time when I had made some microscopic progress with moving on._

I loosened my grasp on my hair and moved my hands to look at him properly. He looked worse than I had thought at the first glance. In fact, he looked just as bad as I felt. Judging by his bloodshot, sunken eyes and pale, thinned skin, he had not been sleeping nor eating well either. There were remains of dried blood under his nose. Shiny, wet lines were running down his cheeks, showing clearly where his tears slid. One more trace snaked itself over the irregularities of his awful scar.

_I remember when he came back with this, when Matt pretty much carried him in, his clothes burned, his hair burned, a half of his face and a part of his shoulder scorched to flesh. He didn't even want to look at me. He was crying when we were cleaning it up, but I thought back then that most of it was because he was begging me not to leave him. I know that's how it was._

“Come here,” I mumbled, extending my arms.

He pinched his lips into a narrow line and shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around me, hiding his head under my chin, digging his fingernails into my back. I took a deep, deep breath and dived my fingers into his hair, shifting my legs around him while he nearly curled into a ball like a weak, ill, tired cat, and I leaned my cheek on top of his head, and we could pretend that everything would be okay.

Maybe.

Maybe it really would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I wouldn't leave you hanging.  
> It's just so bizarre for me to write _Osaka_ with just one O.
> 
> Also, thank you so much, for all the kudos, comments, and subscriptions! You are so awesome! ♡♡  
> Prompts are quite welcome, too, and please please let me know what you think. ♡


	4. Mello - Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an early morning and it's raining - the fresh air carries many different scents into the old room and clings to the wooden floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon and feels, feels and lemon.

The panel doors were open.

I idly watched as the light, plain curtains swayed gently in the draft, soundless between the heavy rain hitting the roof and the green garden outside. The air smelled fresh, light, and earthy; it smelled like memories, dusty and laying comfortably on the wood in the faintly lit room.

The ryokan was old and had its own character that only magnified the mood.

It was one early morning on one of the early days of June.

I sighed and shifted around in the futon, watching the wet leaves and grass from floor level and listening to the water hitting the ground.

“Awake already?” Mello murmured behind me, shuffling closer to spoon me and wrapping one thin arm over my waist. I closed my eyes and caught his hand to hug it to my chest. “It's barely after six.”

“Your snoring woke me up, dumbass,” I mumbled, not entirely sure whether I was actually awake and not dreaming. It felt rather like I was slipping between clarity and sleep.

“I don't fucking snore.” He pressed his face to the back of my head and inhaled.

“Sure you'd know.” I rolled my eyes underneath my closed eyelids. Mello left a small kiss in my hair.

“Can't you go back to sleep?” he asked, pulling on the covers and making sure that not even my smallest toe was poking out.

“Fed up with me already?” I snorted.

“Quite the contrary—” He pressed his hips closer to mine. I shuddered. “I'm only not sure if you can manage, I mean, you are still weak, still recovering and stuff...” he drawled with a nasty smirk echoing in his voice. I dug the corners of my lips deep in my cheeks, which was nothing like a smile, preparing a good surge of sarcasm.

“If you say so. I definitely should rest myself. Such a pity...” I sighed. “All that is left is to fall asleep again and wish you luck with having some wet dreams to compensate, then.” I yawned and stretched a fraction before nesting myself properly and sinking my head into the pillow. “Sweet dreams.”

“Wa— wait, are you fucking serious?” Mello rasped, grabbing my shoulder and shaking me frantically; I smoothed my face blank just in time before he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned forward to peer at me. “Oi, don't fall asleep, come on!”

He was rock hard and it was poking at my buttock and the tone of how horny he was in his voice — mixed something close to panic — made it nearly impossible to keep myself from bursting out in laughter.

“Mmmm? Did you say something?” I asked, flawlessly faking sleepiness. I yawned again. “I'm so drowsy...”

“Come ooon...” he whined. “What the fuck am I supposed to do about this boner now?”

I was unable to stop a small snort from escaping me.

“Did you suddenly forget how to jack off?”

Mello groaned and let himself fall limp onto the futon, partly squishing me down into it. He buried his face in my hair again, but kept his hands to himself and wasn't moving at all.

“We haven't fucked in ages,” he muttered, muffled so much that I had to guess what words he used.

_True that._

“It's been... half a year?” he said slowly. “Holy fuck. It's been a fucking half of a fucking year.”

“To be frank, most of it is on your account,” I mumbled. “And then the whole May we spent on recovering and also you were begging to let you sleep in the bed with me instead of on the carpet.”

“And then you bled all over my leg and the sheet right the next night.”

I tilted my chin to my chest before I snapped my head back, strongly hitting Mello's forehead and he yelped, although more from shock rather than pain.

“I can't bloody cork it up and order it to come later,” I growled. “I wasn't eating nor sleeping properly for weeks and it fucked up my cycle.”

“And that's on me again,” he said quietly, rolling onto his back.

I turned over to him. He hid his face in his hands, elbows raised, honey-toned hair splayed on the pillow; his bare chest, shallowly rising and falling with each breath, was showing down to his abdomen from under the futon. The dark beads of his rosary were contrasting with the otherwise smooth, pale skin.

And then there was the scar tissue. Lots of it.

I crawled closer, climbing onto his chest, knowing well that it wasn't nearly enough to get him to let his hands down and look at me, so I leaned down and began kissing all over the scarred flesh on his shoulder. As soon as he realised what I was doing, he cupped my face in both of his hands to stop me. His eyes were closed and his head tilted away from me.

“Please, don't touch that, it's fucking gross.” He hissed through his teeth, scowling.

“What's gross?” I asked gently, knowing already the answer.

“ _This_.” He poked the shiny, tense, ridged tissue with his index finger and traced it along his shoulder, over his neck, to his face. “All fucking _this_ is disgusting.” He took a deep breath. “There's no need to touch _that_.”

“No part of you is gross,” I said, inching closer. I wrinkled my nose. “No, wait. Your morning breath is gross.”

He snorted despite himself, but fell back into his dejected mood right away. I brushed my lips over his. Mello sighed and grazed my cheek with his knuckles and we stayed like that for a good while, accompanied only by the rain outside.

After what felt like mere moment and ages at once, I shuffled further and resumed tracing kisses over his scar — but now on his face instead, and this time he didn't stop me, still stroking my cheek and deciding to sink his fingers into my hair.

He murmured something and I didn't catch the words at first, too taken with showing that I didn't consider any part of him disgusting, but when I replayed it in my mind—

“I love you.”

I froze.

Slowly, like there was nothing more I could to do order my muscles to move faster, I raised my head and stared at him wide-eyed. He gazed back at me with an intense blush — more intense than I had ever seen, deeper even than when we slept together the first time, never mention that five minutes prior to it I had walked on him jacking off and moaning my name.

“I should've said that long ago,” he said, not breaking the eye contact which obviously must have costed him a lot. “So long ago. There were so many times when I was close to... and— and afterwards I always thought what if I didn't make it and what if I never got to tell you, and yet, I still didn't say it.”

I stared at him. Speechless. 

Speechless.

 _Speechless_ because of course I thought, of course I had known — _of course_ I was convinced that he loved me, and I had that in my mind for nearly two years, but it was something never on the surface, ever drifting in my subconscious and only occasionally making its way to my awake thoughts, prompted by some more intense situation. And hearing it, actually hearing it from him — that seemed almost too unreal to comprehend. I gulped, struggling to bring myself back to my body. Mello's eyes were searching, shifting from my one eye to another, that tiny movement that usually goes unnoticed unless you really pay attention. His pupils shrank to two small dots and his jaw dropped a little.

“Don't cry...” he whispered.

I let out something that was both a short laugh and a sob, unable to choose between a weepy scowl and a smile. I nodded, although it made no sense while I couldn't stop myself at all and I laughed again. I swallowed thickly and leaned my forehead on his, finally managing a smile.

“I love you, too.” I brought my hands to stroke his cheeks, both the stubbly one and the scarred one, and I kissed him tenderly, I left a whole queue of small, fleeting kisses on his lips. “And you know. I should have said that a long time ago. Too.”

“Moron,” he mumbled.

“Dumbass. And your breath still stinks.”

“I can do you from behind if it bothers you so much. Your morning breath isn't roses either.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Not as bad as yours, though. Unlike _someone_ , I don't eat chocolate after brushing my teeth for the night.”

“So what? You eat my dick after you brush your teeth in the evening,” he said, absolutely pleased with his remark. I glared at him.

“You are completely right,” I said with a deadpan expression. “I should stop giving you head, then.”

Mello groaned.

“Weren't we talking _exactly_ like this five minutes ago?”

I rolled my eyes.

“And just what are you going to do about it?” I asked, flipping onto my back and pulling him along onto me. He grinned.

“You.”

“Oh?” I bit my lips, gazing back at him and tracing my fingers along his arm, feeling each muscle and each irregularity of the scar on his shoulder. “How?”

His grin narrowed to a triumphant smirk. He sank down to his elbows and his nose grazed the shell of my ear.

“I'll start with shoving my fingers in you... one, then two... maybe three... I'll screw you with them until you beg for more—” he whispered while his hand began travelling down my side under the covers and he lodged his knee between my legs to spread them apart. He brushed his nose over my jaw and he nipped at the skin on my neck. I clenched my teeth and tilted my chin to give him better access. “And if you behave nice, I'll get you to come... _or maybe not_...?” he hissed between leaving marks down my throat. 

His hand reached my underwear and he hooked his index finger on the waistband to pull it aside, allowing his middle and ring fingers to trace up and down my slit.

I gasped and dug my nails into the small of his back.

“Hmmm...?” Mello removed his arm to examine it and rubbed his fingers together to show me how sticky they got. “Aren't you a little ahead of yourself?”

“Shut—” I drew a sudden breath in when his hand snaked right back into place and his finger entered me without any previous warning. “Shut up—”

The rainy morning air wasn't the warmest, but the heat under the covers was quickly becoming unbearable and I dreamed of throwing them aside. Whether Mello had the same idea it was difficult to say, but as soon as I thought about it, the futon was lifted and carelessly tossed onto the floor.

Oh, no. No. No, he definitely had another reason. He slid in the second finger before he sat up on his heels to _watch_. He leered at how his own fingers were pushing in and out of me and how his thumb danced on my clit, how my chest was rapidly rising and falling and how I was gnawing at my lips. A burning blush flooded my cheeks and I turned my face away.

“Take that off, please,” he said, pinching the hem of my tank top with his free hand while the other thrust the third finger in.

The task seemed like the easiest thing on Earth, but at the moment I wasn't entirely sure if I was able to do it, not when I was up on cloud nine and struggling to bite my voice down. It was either that, or keeping it together, so I focused on grasping the loose cloth and dragging it up my body while my mouth opened freely to let out a long, whiny moan.

“That's better, thank you,” he commented when the top was finally off and I flopped back onto the mattress with another groan. “Are you feeling good?”

“Fhhhh— mmm—” I tried taking a breath, but it hitched halfway when Mello angled his wrist and his fingers reached deeper. “F— fantastic—”

“Would you like to know what I'm going to do to you after you come?” he asked quietly, observing intently every little change in my expression, every twitch of my legs and the way my nails were clawing at the sheets. His erection was straining at his red boxers, making a darker stain where his pre-come sank in and the sole sight, along with what he said, made the warmth in my belly rise up to boiling level. He bent his fingers in a beckoning motion.

“Mihaaaeeel...” I breathed out and he groaned like it hit him in the gut.

“Fucking shit—” he hissed, speeding up the motion of his fingers. “You are going to mess up my whole play, aren't you?”

I arched my back and let out another long wail that melted into his name. Mello left his distant spot and climbed onto me to leave bites all over my chest and rub his crotch on my thigh, not caring about how small groans were spilling out between his teeth.

What he cared about, though, was how each of those little sounds struck right into my core and how I tilted my head back, squeezing my eyelids shut, panting, anticipating, almost there—

He withdrew his fingers.

I wanted to strangle him.

I gave him an undignified whine and did tear up a little in frustration. Mello grinned, seeming disgustingly content, but it faded off soon and was nothing more but a thin layer that failed to hide how intensely needy and impatient he got. He raised his hand to his mouth and put up quite a show by licking and sucking his fingers clean, one after another, staring at me with serious, heated, half-lidded eyes, without a trace of a smile.

“Would you kindly get on your hands and knees, please?” he asked when he was still lapping at the last finger, not even pulling it out to word his request properly and it made him slur a little. I shuddered and shakily scrambled to roll myself over, barely able to keep my mind on track while I was still dizzy with that yearning, pulsating sensation down there, my inner thighs were sticky and the fabric of my underwear was unpleasantly damp.

“This won't be needed,” Mello said, hooking his thumbs at the waistband of my knickers to pull them down to my bent knees after I steadied myself with my butt high in the air in front of him. His breathing was quick and shallow.

“Mihaeeel, hurry up...” I uttered, clenching my fists on the white sheets and rubbing my thighs together, anything to relieve at least the tiniest bit of the tension.

But noooo, no. Instead of finally getting to it, he chose to sit back again and stare at my behind. I glared at him over my shoulder.

“I fucking swear if you are not going to— aaaaaah...” My rant was cut short when he brought his hand up and slid three fingers into me again, resuming the previous maddening pace like there was no break whatsoever. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened my mouth in a drawn mewl.

“If I'm _what_ , mmm?” he asked with a shade of amusement that was only a little thread compared to how heavy with lust he sounded. He leaned forward, his chest covered my lower back, and he snaked his other hand to rub all around my clit—

“What were you telling me, hmmm?” he asked again between nipping at my skin down along my spine. “If I'm not going to do _what_?”

“A-aaaaahhh—” I gasped when he twisted his wrist _exaaaactly_ the way that was driving me insane and my elbows were this close to giving out.

“If I'm not going to fuck you?” he hissed into my ear, stilling his fingers to teasingly trace his small finger — fourth one — along my opening, dipping it no more than an inch in, just to make that tiny, tiny, tiny bit more of a stretch. His right hand kept on massaging all around my clit and my inner thighs.

“Mihael, please—” I panted, hanging my head low and curling my toes. “Please—”

“Please _what_?” He began gently scissoring two of his fingers.

“Mihael Keehl, I'm going to bloody hell strangle you between my thighs if you don't stop teasing me _right fucking now_!” I rasped, and I hadn't finished my answer before he withdrew his hands and flipped me onto my back.

“That's one dream way to go,” he said, tearing my panties down off my legs and tossing them carelessly in a random direction. He took off his boxers, quickly skipped to one of our suitcases, and dug in to retrieve a condom, which he rolled on on his way back.

“Finally...” I muttered, opening my arms to him when he dropped to his knees and leaned forward on top of me. His hair fell in a curtain around his face, shielding his expression from my sight for a moment.

Mello sighed and captured my lips in a brief, sweet kiss, grabbing under my left knee to raise my leg... then he closed his eyes and ever so slowly let his hips down, he sank into me, letting both of us feel how we gradually connected, inch by inch. I realised I was holding my breath when it escaped my throat along with a quiet, relieved moan.

He stilled, drawing his eyebrows together and gasping for air like he was in pain.

“You okay?” I murmured, cupping his face to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“It's... definitely been... _a while_...” he choked out. I giggled, and so did he, breathlessly.

“That's okay,” I whispered, stroking his cheekbones. “I simply want to be with you, you know?”

Mello scoffed. He buried his face in the crook of my neck and mumbled something, too incoherent for me to understand, but the frustration it was filled with made his comment rather obvious.

“Come on...” I purred into his ear. I ran my hands up and down his smooth back, tracing each prominent bump of his vertebrae, a tell-tale proof of how miserably he spent the long, depressing months hiding from everyone, especially from me.

Another sigh left his lips, warm on my skin, and he propped himself up on his elbow, allowing his free hand to cover mine which was still caressing his cheek. He filled the gaps between my fingers with his own and kissed the top of my palm. He closed his eyes and bit his lips... and there it was, he raised his hips and let them sink low again unhurriedly to savour every second. I dived my fingers into his hair while I pressed my other hand to the small of his back, silently urging him to go faster.

I barely registered that perhaps my moans were a little too loud and that they were way too easy to hear through the thin walls and initially I tried to tone them down... but then Mello gasped and let go of my hand to grab my hip, and he groaned my name, opening his glassy, fogged eyes, and I saw that delightful blush on his cheeks, and he moaned again, and—

He ran his tongue over his lips and leaned down for a messy kiss, drinking in my mewls and giving me his own to swallow in return. I clenched my fist and pulled at his hair, breaking the exchange to catch a breath.

“Mihael, Mihael...” I whispered his name over and over, saturating it with warmth. I slid my hand from his nape to his jaw, down his throat, his shoulder and chest, sneaking it up his waist to scratch deep, curved lines into his back—

“Haaa— haaaah... aaahhhnn-”

That was it.

Mello sucked air in between his teeth just to spill it back in a drawn out, loud wail and his hips stuttered, he dug his nails into my hip, but still careful not to leave bruises—

“That's good, you are so good,” I murmured, stroking his hair and closing my eyes. “This is good, come on, Mihael...”

“ _Shut... up..._ ”

He choked on his groan and slowed down to a halt. His chest heaved while he panted, scowling like he was wounded.

“You are good, too.” He chuckled on exhale. “Amazing.”

“Oh, shut up,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Mmm...”

He was still hard and instead of pulling out, he snaked his hand down to where we were connected.

“Your turn.” He traced gentle bites over my collarbones before his fingers began their delightful dance around my clit, circling, pressing and pinching, searching for that particular spot—

I tilted my head back and gasped.

“Here?” he asked quietly.

“Y-yes, that's perfect— unffff—”

It was almost ridiculous how easy it was for him to make me squirm and whine, but he saw nothing funny about it when he watched my expressions like they were the best thing he had ever seen — and if anyone were to ask, he would have probably said that they indeed were absolutely the best thing.

He slipped out and entered me with his fingers, and it just took one thrust, two, three—

Four—

_Five—_

“Mihaaaeeel—”

Six thrusts and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and arched up, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, shuddering and opening my mouth in a soundless scream.

Heaven.

I fell limp back onto the mattress.

Mello removed the condom and tied it before he lined up to me and rested his head on my chest, probably listening to my insane heartbeat.

“You know what?” he began, lazily grazing my jaw with the pads of his fingers. “Half year of a break does result in some fucking fantastic fuck.”

“I'm absolutely not having another six months off again, ever.” I snorted, gently slapping his head before I started stroking his hair. “That's pure torture.”

“Yeah.”

“What time is it?” I asked. A huge yawn escaped my mouth.

“Half past six, I guess.”

“Let's sleep some more,” I mumbled. “A lot more.”

“Mhmmm...”

“Get the covers back here.”

“You get them, I'm fucking tired...”

“Bring them or you are sleeping on the floor.”

“We kinda _are_ on the floor,” he muttered, but he rolled away and grabbed the futon. I sighed contently when he fixed it over the both of us, making sure that not a single toe poked out.

“You can have a bite,” I said with my head pressed under his chin.

“Hhmmm?”

“I know you hid your chocolate under the pillow.”

“Mmm...”

I smiled, draping my arm on his side and hooking my leg at his thigh.

“Too sleepy?”

“Mhmmm...”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“Mhmm...”

I poked his cheek and grunted impatiently.

“Mmmm... I love you, too. Go to sleep,” he murmured, pressing me closer.

I left a lingering kiss on his throat and sighed one more time, feeling myself drifting off to the steady, calming sound of Mello's breath and the gentle hum of the rain.

The air smelled like another good memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ryokan is a kind of a Japanese inn, traditional style.
> 
> This is probably the longest lemon I've written so far, and I'm quite content how it went out. I'm in denial after reading ch.82 of SnK and needed something to lift my spirit.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, for all the kudos and subscriptions and comments! ♡


	5. L - Human behaviour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you ever get close to a human_   
>  _And human behaviour_   
>  _Be ready, be ready to get confused_   
>  _And me and my hereafter_   
>  _There's definitely, definitely, definitely no logic_   
>  _To human behaviour_   
>  _But yet so, yet so irresistible_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Human Behaviour](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ml8KDumTO0) by Björk plays in the background...

It was difficult to say why this Hideki Ryuga signed up to attend the university. Sure, he and one other guy — the _absolutely striking_ Yagami Light, who was an exact opposite of Ryuga — had both scored best in the entry exams, but that was where Ryuga's will of involvement seemed to have stopped. The sight of him anywhere near the buildings of the university was a truly rare catch, and if he actually appeared, he seemed utterly bored with the lectures, preferring munching on sweets (not even discretely) and observing everyone and everything around with some sort of wonder and amusement, like he was a kid taking a part in some funny experiment. The way he always sat — or rather squatted on the chair on bare feet, the shoes he seemed to resent all abandoned on the floor — only underlined that impression.

The way he dressed, kind of dismissively, the way his hair was a constant dishevelled mess and the intensity of the dark circles under his slightly bloodshot eyes on his otherwise paper-pale skin, it all fitted the picture perfectly.

A hopeless, basement type otaku.

_Must be._

Not that I was feeling any better that him, but I did put some effort into my appearance and had the decency to attend every single lecture and never skip on any uni-related activities. Well, I had worked my ass off to get in, hell would break open and swallow me if I as much as thought about letting it go.

But I was still far, far behind Ryuga's level, academics-wise, which combined with his careless absence was the main reason why he had been pissing me off so much.

Oh, and one more thing.

This bastard of an otaku began asking me for notes from the days he was missing.

_Fucking shit, what wouldn't I have given at that time to make him wear heavy boots till he drops dead._

The horrible person I was, of course I gave him the notes. The mean person I was, I told him I could stay in case he had any questions. The awful person I was, I even offered to share some assignments with me.

I was absolutely horrible, mean and awful to myself.

Of course I didn't do it because he was awfully adorable in his awkward demeanour. It didn't matter that he had huge eyes and could be very cute when he was asking for those notes.

I heard my name and skipped out of thought.

“Yeah?” I raised my head from my arms that rested on the table of the cosy café and stared at Ryuga.

“Thursday or Tuesday?” he repeated, looking at me with his huge eyes and the same sort of wonder he constantly had on his face when he seemed amused.

“Huh?” _Thursday and Tuesday? What's that about?_

_He isn't asking me out or something, is he?_

_No, he's definitely not. I don't think that word exists in his dictionary._

“This part here.” He raised my notebook with his thumb and index finger and poked at some place in my scribbles.

“Oh... that's... that's Monday, actually,” I muttered, pinching my lips a little sourly. 

_Is my handwriting really that bad?_

“Ah, so it is.”

_Not even a thank you._

“Thank you.”

_Is he reading my mind or something? He better not._

“Won't you eat your cake?”

My eyes shifted to the untouched portion of chocolate cake with a puff of whipped cream and a strawberry on top.

_Oh right, most of his diet is composed of sugar._

“Nah. You can have it.”

“Thank you. That's very friendly of you.”

“Friendly?” I repeated, confused. “It's just cake, I wasn't going to eat it anyway.”

Ryuga went silent, seemingly mulling over my words.

“Is it something that is done often?”

“Huh?”

“Sharing cake.”

“I don't think I'm following you...?” I said slowly, straightening up and tilting my head to the side.

“No one has shared cake with me before,” he stated like it was all the explanation I needed. The problem was, he said it also like it was something very... _forward_. And fuck, did it make my ears warm up.

_Come on, this is Hideki Ryuga, the master of slack and an otaku. He might seem adorable and awkward at first sight and he's the most intelligent person I've ever met, but nothing to blush about. At all._

“Well... it's just cake...” I mumbled, averting my gaze. “No big deal.”

I yawned and stretched, trying to reduce the not-so-nice nervous tingling all over my body.

“You are tired.”

“Uh, no, I'm not.”

I glanced at the table. The cake was gone, only a couple of tiny crumbs proved it ever existed.

“I can finish this later. You don't look good.”

“I... don't look good.” I echoed, raising my eyebrows.

_I give him the notes, stay in case something might be unclear, I gave him the fucking cake, and he says I'm ugly._

“Your eyes are red and you have circles under them. You are paler than usual and your clothes are a little wrinkled, you didn't have time to prepare them properly. You have a completely new notebook for the lectures with professor Tanaka, only the first three pages are filled. You probably forgot to pack the one you usually use, so you bought this one during a break. They are also written with a ballpoint pen, while you always use a regular ink pen or a pencil. You forgot those, too. You must have stayed up late and then overslept, but not enough to be late, so you rushed out. You slept a little on the table here. You are tired.”

I listened to him, not realising my mouth has dropped a bit.

“I... didn't sleep on this table.” That was the only thing I managed to compose.

“You talked a little incoherently and snored.”

“I... what?” _Is this guy for real?_ “What... what did I say?”

“You said: _I hate you_ , and then you said my name.”

My cheeks burned.

“I don't hate you. I like you.”

_Oh shit._

Ryuga tilted his head to the side. I heard his vertebrae crack.

“Does that mean we are friends?”

“Well, if you like me, too, then I guess... yeah.”

_I think this is the most bizarre conversation I've ever had._

_Just how much_ do I _like him...? Now that I think about it..._

A tiniest smile appeared on his thin, pale lips.

“Now I have two friends.”

_I kind of see why this list is so short._

“I feel honoured to be included,” I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

He nodded, most likely not catching the fact that I wasn't entirely serious.

_He sure is incredibly intelligent, but he is sometimes a bit clueless when it comes to personal interactions, isn't he?_

_That's... oh god. That's totally cute. He is fucking cute._

Ryuga went back to reading my notes and this time I watched him intently. That bedhead hair of his was in fact almost endearing. And how he was sitting... and all those sweets... 

_Oh shit. God, no. Please, god, no. No._

_His eyes are huge._

_And that nose is perfect._

_And... the lips... I suspect they must be soft. Maybe even tasting sweet from his food habits, who knows._

_Probably no one. If his friend list contains two names, I sincerely doubt he's ever kissed anyone._

“No, I haven't.”

“Wha— what?” I asked. My eyes went round.

_I didn't, did I? Please, god, please, I didn't say that out loud, did I?_

_Oh. Oh, thank heavens. He's just talking on the phone._

_This is the weirdest way to hold a phone. Ever. Does he hold everything between his thumb and index finger like this?_

“I see. That's expected. I'll take a look at that later.”

He ended the call and looked at me.

“No, I haven't.”

_Oh no._

“Huh?”

“I have never kissed anyone. Like you've said, I have two friends, so naturally the probability of it is very low.”

_It's like he's discussing some maths problem, he didn't even blush..._

Ryuga closed my notebook and slid it on the table towards me along with the rest of them.

“I have finished. Thank you.”

“It's nothing.” I gave him an awkward smile. I was sure my entire face was burning.

“Talking about kissing is embarrassing to you,” he remarked, bringing his thumb to his lips and tilting his head once more. “I understand why, but I find it pointless. Displaying affection is an elementary way of bonding, essential in maintaining a relationship. Mostly programmed to enhance the prospect of having offspring. There is nothing surprising about it.”

_How the hell is he able to talk about it like that? And why?_

“I think... it's more than that,” I muttered under my nose, staring at the table while I packed my stuff. “And it can be surprising.”

“How so?”

“It's difficult to tell.”

He went quiet again, pondering on what I said.

“Do you mean that the theory is different from practise?”

My eyes shot wide open and my ears set themselves aflame.

“I... guess? At least it might feel that way.”

“That's intriguing,” he stated. It seemed like ages since the last time he had blinked. Like a cat. “Would you mind if I tried to see what you mean?”

“You mean...” My legs were like jelly and I was glad I was sitting. “You want us to _kiss_?”

“If that wouldn't be a problem.”

“I...” My mouth was dry. “I'm not sure if it's... um...”

“Is it about the opinion on public display of affection that would bother you?” he inquired, moving both of his hands to rest on his knees. “It's just to determine the facts.”

_Is he messing with me or he's for real?_

“I... can't kiss like that,” I said, pinching my lips. “That would be empty and would lack any true meaning. It doesn't work that way.”

“Hmm...” He pressed his thumb to his lips again. “I suppose the part about maintaining stable relations between two people is the issue.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hmm.”

Neither of us said anything when we got up, paid for the cakes and tea, and left the café. I turned to march to my bus stop, while he walked beside me and texted someone, shuffling his maltreated shoes over the pavement.

He received an answer when we got to my destination and I plopped down on the bench. He ditched his shoes and squatted on the seat next to me. He leaned forward, drawing my attention. I answered his stare with raised eyebrows, trying my best not to blush when our conversation from ten minutes before was bouncing around my head.

“Would you like to establish a relationship with me?” he asked all of a sudden. I stopped breathing.

“Um...” My eyes widened and my mouth dropped. “What—?”

“I find it interesting.”

“In... interesting.” I clenched my teeth and my eyebrows poked even higher. “You are joking, right?”

He frowned.

“I don't joke much.”

“So you are saying you want to date me because you find _it_ interesting? Like an experiment?”

Ryuga looked at the sky for a moment, then back at me.

“Yes.” He gave me that tiny smile of his again, glad that I understood the request as it was. I did not reciprocate the smile and his own faltered. “Is that wrong?”

“Like hell,” I muttered, glaring at the pavement like it was cussing at me. “If I'm going to date anyone, they better be really feeling something for me. I'm not doing any stupid experiments.”

“We are friends.” He stated seriously.

“Exactly. A romantic relationship is more than just friends.”

_Am I actually explaining this stuff right now to this guy? How the hell did I even end up at this?_

“I see,” he said slowly, leaning his back on the bench.

It was silent until an expensive looking car appeared at the corner, my bus right after it, and I stood up, pulling my bag onto my shoulder.

“See you later, Ryuga,” I mumbled, not looking at him.

He stood up as well.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” He asked. I glanced at him.

“I told you—”

“But what if I do?”

“... what?”

The car pulled over, halting next to the bus stop. The bus itself stopped as well, some people exited, the bus lingered for a moment, then the door closed and it drove away. I didn't even register it until it was too late. I stared after it.

“You are saying this because you want to get that experiment of yours, aren't you?” I asked blankly.

“No.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“I find this hard to believe after what you've said, Ryuga.”

_He's not even blushing. At all._

Ryuga sighed and pulled his hands out of pockets of his jeans. He stepped closer, way too close for any borders of personal space and I suddenly realised how tall he was, something difficult to pinpoint when he was constantly curled up on a chair or horribly hunching when standing. He leaned down, stopping inches from my face. I took a small step back, feeling rather uneasy and embarrassed with the proximity.

“My name isn't really Hideki Ryuga.”

“Huh?”

_Now he really must be joking._

“L.”

I snorted.

“As if. Sure you are. And that's not even a name anyway. And you...” I scowled a little at him, “... you are getting creepy right now.”

I felt rather stupid after I said that. It wasn't anything out of Ryuga's usual behaviour, not really. I sighed.

“Listen. I wouldn't mind going on a date with you, but I'm not doing this if you are treating it as nothing more than some dry maths experiment. I don't have the energy nor will nor time for that, and it just sits wrong with me, this whole concept. That's all.”

_Still no blush. Maybe he has some condition and can't blush whatsoever?_

Ryuga sighed, too, and took a tiny step back as well. Corners of his lips tilted up in the cutest smile I had ever seen in my life.

It was in that moment that I knew I was ultimately fucked.

“How about an experiment to see if it works that way between you and me? No maths involved?”

I stared at him without a word.

“I hoped I didn't have to say that right away...” he said, suddenly looking a tiny bit... flustered? “And that you would agree on the experiment idea, so I could avoid that, but I find you very interesting in a specific way.”

I frowned.

“Is that why you've been asking me for my notes?”

“Yes. I don't need to attend the lectures, I've known all those things before I registered here.”

“Eeeh?”

_What the fuck._

“Why did you sign up, then?”

“I can't tell you that.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, Ryuga, you can take me out on a date. And it's better be good.”

_Here's that smile again. I'm doomed._

“Now?” he asked.

“Now...?” My eyes widened. “You want to go on a date... now?”

“Is that a problem?”

_Is it?_

_Well, I'm almost falling asleep and he even said I look bad..._

“If you don't mind, Ryuga, I'd rather get some nice rest first. I had to pull an all-nighter to review stuff for today's test.” As if my body wanted to accent my statement, a huge yawn hit my mouth from the inside.

“That's reasonable.” Ryuga tilted his head. “Your next bus is in twenty two minutes, may I offer you a ride to your residence?”

_Residence. Lol. He called my tiny flat a residence._

“That'd be nice.” I smiled.

Ryuga nodded at the car that arrived before the bus. We got in the back seats. An elderly man in a hat was the driver; he didn't as much as cast a glance at us.

“Watari, we'll take a detour first,” Ryuga said and looked at me.

“Oh, right.” I took off my bag and placed it next to me. “The address is...”

* * *

“I'm afraid you have to wake up.”

“Mhhh...?”

I groggily opened my eyes, not happy about it at all.

“We arrived at your place.”

I looked up and to my left.

_Oh shit._

“Sorry,” I mumbled, quickly straightening up and blushing furiously.

I fell asleep in this damned car.

On Ryuga's shoulder.

I fell asleep on Ryuga's shoulder.

On Ryuga.

I slept on Ryuga.

“Hm? That's no bother.” He said just as quietly, not looking at me. He removed his arm that was previously draped over my shoulders, and handed me my bag.

_Oh my. Maybe he can't blush, but sure he seems flustered. Maybe not very much, but still._

“Well, thanks for the ride.” I gave him a small, awkward smile.

“No problem.” He still didn't glance at me. I bit my lips.

_You've got this, me. You've got this._

I leaned forward and pecked his cheek. His eyes widened – widened a lot – and...

_Oh god. He blushed. He definitely did this time._

“See you later, Ryuga.”

“See you...”

* * *

When I closed the door of my flat behind me, I leaned my back on it and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, closing my eyes. I took off my sweater and pressed it to my face, inhaling.

_He sure smells nice, too._

_Oh my._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Otaku_ in Japan, unlike geek in the Western culture, has very negative connotations and is mostly treated as an actual and sour insult, not an adorable/ironic nickname; a useless, unhygienic, unkempt person who does nothing to contribute to the country (which is very important in Japanese mindset), who spends their time watching bad anime and worshipping the idol industry. It is often said that the anime and manga industry and culture is full of bad taste things because of how many of them support it. It's strange to me to see so many Western people using it so freely, I would be very offended if I was called that.
> 
> *The Reader, of course, doesn't know that L isn't really an otaku, she only based it on his appearance and behaviour (slacking off, constant absence, and not treating the university with respect nor seriousness).
> 
> *Don't worry, I'll write about the super awkward date, too.
> 
> *Comments are very welcome. ♡♡ I take prompts!


	6. L - Smile like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things happen — awkward and not — when one decides to spend a day with that Hideki Ryuga... and what's more, not just an ordinary day, but an actual date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some minor references to the previous chapter with L (Human behaviour), but you don't really have to read it if you haven't yet.

They say that even when you expect something and are convinced that there shouldn't be any possibility for something else to happen, that somewhere, somewhere deep, deep in your mind, there is that lingering “what if”, the tiniest one, waiting for a surprise.

_Did I suspect what a date with Ryuga would be like?_

_Yes._

_Did I have the smallest hope for Something Else?_

_Oh yes._

_Did Something Else happen?_

_Well..._

We met on the Friday morning – not for the date, but to attend the lectures. Ryuga miraculously appeared at the university. He wasn't, of course, drawing as much attention as Yagami (at least not _that_ kind of attention), but his presence did not pass without notice from some people in our group... especially when after greeting me with a little bow (which could be considered a decently deep bow if you added his permanently hunched back to it), he sat down almost next to me, leaving only one empty seat between us. In all honesty, I was that close to getting my jaw on the floor, even despite what had transpired the previous evening. We hadn't determined any details considering that date and in all honesty I suspected that nothing of the kind would happen, but...

He brushed his hair (not that it changed much). His longsleeve was black. Once I saw it, I couldn't look away for a good moment – the sight was so strange in itself that I felt like I somehow had ended up in an alternate universe, one where Ryuga arrived at the university every day and he put a little more care into his looks.

He reached out to me, not turning his head and keeping his vision on the blackboard. I glanced at him and realised he was offering me chocolate.

That single peek unveiled the grand mystery of Ryuga's legendary (to me) rare blush.

There was none on his cheeks nor his neck, however—

His ears.

His ears were intensely pink.

_Score._

This was undoubtedly the next cutest thing I noticed about him, second to that smile he had pulled the day before and it made my stomach twirl a bit. I broke off a piece of his chocolate and gave him a thanking grin, which he just managed to see in the moment when he gazed at me.

_Whoa. He is sharing his sweets._

My mind went back to the previous evening and his question whether sharing cake was a common gesture, his tone kind of suggesting that it was a very forward action. And despite my explanation that not really, it wasn't anything that special, I somehow sensed that he did not treat it as such. Now it was my turn to blush while I munched on the chocolate and struggled to pay attention to the lecture, a fight hopelessly futile considering that my brain was stuck on replying the past five minutes, over, and over, and over.

Another thought invaded me, this time not so pleasant.

_I should have dressed nicer. I should have picked those perfumes I got last month. Dammit, I should've washed my hair today's morning instead of yesterday's night. What if it got greasy already? And is my shirt wrinkled? What if there is a hole in my tights? What if my shoes are dirty? What if—_

But then I calmed down a little.

_When it comes to Ryuga, I doubt that he pays much attention to that, at least not in a “I'm judging you” manner. It's rather a neutral observation, deduction..._

I frowned, the lecture all forgotten.

_What if...?_

_What if he actually is...?_

_Nah, that's ridiculous. L can't be a weird, closed-up guy of my age. It just doesn't fit. At all._

_Well, on the other hand, “not fitting” is something Ryuga's excelling at._

I got so caught up in thought that I didn't even notice when the whole lecture passed by without me taking a single sentence down, never mention registering anything from what had been said. I covered my eyes with my palm for a moment, congratulating myself on fucking up the last meeting for the subject before a big exam. I gazed at Ryuga, who was getting his feet into his poor shoes — that did not change — and bit my lips.

_I've got it bad. So bad._

I packed my notebook and pen and threw my bag on my shoulder, still frowning.

“The next lecture was cancelled,” Ryuga said quietly, looking at me with his head tilted slightly to the side.

I glanced at the ceiling, scanning through the schedule in my memory.

“That's the last one for today, isn't it?” I mused, turning my eyes to him.

“It is.”

“Um... so...” I began, having no idea what to say.

“Would you like to go on a date now?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and suddenly averting his stare. I couldn't see his ears from the current angle, but I was sure they were red.

He looked back at me and a tint of a smile appeared on his lips.

“... yeah, why not?” I uttered, trying not to sound too awkward, which proved impossible.

This time he really smiled and I followed him out of the row of seats and we left the hall to venture into the corridors full of students rushing in all directions. I scowled at the noise; the afternoon break was always the busiest one and I usually avoided mixing with the crowd by making my way to wherever my next class would take place before the majority of people left theirs. Ryuga navigated around with no trouble, working like an icebreaker for me. It was an absolutely stupid reason to grin, and yet I did.

I didn't notice that my shoelaces were loose until I stepped on them and majestically fell face first. If I expected to be caught by anyone — by Ryuga in particular — then that tiny part of my mind that said “no” was right, and I landed on the cold floor with a loud, piercing squeal that definitely did not make me seem any subtler.

Ridiculously enough, my initial thought was not about how embarrassing it was.

No.

I wondered why, of all people, it was me, and not Ryuga in his untied, squashed, maltreated shoes, who was at that moment splayed on the cold tiles.

“Are you hurt?”

I blinked and looked up to see Ryuga squatting right in front of me with a barely noticeable frown. On another person, it might have looked insignificant, but his expressions were on some entirely different level... or maybe that parallel universe. He was worried.

“I'm fine,” I mumbled with a scowl. He stood up then, and offered me his hand, and before I processed what that meant, I grasped it and was pulled up with seemingly no effort on his side.

I blinked.

We were holding hands.

_Oh god._

_Oh shit._

_We are holding hands._

_Please, please, please, don't let go, please, please, please._

His fingers started leaving my hand and I instinctively, without thinking, squeezed to stop him. I locked my eyes straight ahead, not daring to as much as peek at him and failing my fight against the flood of pink on my cheeks. Ryuga didn't attempt breaking the grasp, pulling me forward instead and resuming the march. That was when it hit me that all the people in proximity saw the whole ordeal, saw me dropping down like a sack of potatoes, saw Ryuga lifting me up, saw me blushing while holding hands — HOLDING HANDS, for fuck's sake, just _holding hands_ alone — blushing at it like a kid from middle school... and surprisingly, it didn't faze me almost at all.

His hand was bony, but warm and the skin soft and in all honesty for a good moment I wasn't able to register anything else around me, too focused on how perfectly it fit with my own.

Eventually, we reached the exit and were flooded with the warm afternoon sunlight. It was early Autumn and the weather was still far from chilly, the perfect kind for a leisure walk in a park... and talk.

Somehow, I didn't expect Ryuga to be much of a talker.

But then again, there was that tiny part of my brain that hoped otherwise, and once more it was right.

He asked about the little badge I had pinned to my bag. It had the name of my favourite band on it, and Ryuga revealed that he had noticed it a long time ago and gave their music a try; while not all of it was to his taste, he did like a couple of songs, and that was enough to start a nicely flowing conversation... and I would be damned if the fact that he decided to spend time on checking out such a tiny detail, something I liked, wasn't utterly heart-warming.

Since we were at music we liked, naturally the conversation switched to other favourites.

“I used to be a manager of a volleyball club in high school,” I said when we exited the university grounds. “I miss it a lot, it was so much fun... though I admit that dealing with a group of hyperactive, hormonal teenage boys could be exhausting at some points.” I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment. “There was that guy, Bokuto Kōtarō, the captain, you wouldn't believe what a ball of energy and mood swings that one was... thank heavens we had Akaashi, the vice-captain, otherwise I'd tear my hair out.”

“Bokuto Kōtarō,” Ryuga repeated thoughtfully. “He plays in the national team, starting spiker.”

“That he is. I'm proud of him... How did you know?”

“I used to be in the tennis club in high school, and we had a whole trip with two other schools from my area to stop by and play with other teams in Japan. We played with Fukurodani, and I had a glimpse of their volleyball team. Their captain saw some of us playing against their tennis teams and he, um... stuck to me for a good moment.”

I blinked. I stared at Ryuga for full ten seconds. I burst out laughing.

“Bokuto Kōtarō stuck to _you_?”

The sheer picture in my imagination almost floored me from desperate struggle to contain my mirth.

“What I'd give to see that... but how come I didn't know about this? And... maybe we had met there...?”

“I would remember if we had,” Ryuga said calmly. I bit my lip. “He was praising my game for good five minutes until I mentioned that I had seen him playing as well...”

“Oh. Poor you.” I giggled.

“He said he was the 4th best spiker in Japan, that he got scouted—”

“Ah, that's why I didn't know.” I smiled sadly. “I couldn't go to school back then, I had to skip three weeks.”

“Why?”

“Hit and run.” I sighed. “I was in coma for three days and the rest of that time I spent in hospital and then at home.”

Ryuga tilted his chin up in understanding.

“Um, so...” I started, eager to change the subject and lighten up the atmosphere. “Where are we going?”

Ryuga stopped and stared at me with no expression.

“You weren't leading anywhere?” he asked slowly.

“I thought _you_ were...” I raised my eyebrows. I looked around. We had put quite a long way from the university into a part of the city that I didn't know too well.

Ryuga rubbed his neck.

“There's a café.” He pointed at the other side of the busy road... or at least he tried, since he automatically tried to raise his right hand, but so it happened that he was still holding my own. By some miracle I had managed to forget about it and the situation came back crashing down on me, and judging by how pink Ryuga's ears suddenly became, I wasn't the only one. I mustered my courage and sent him a bright grin.

“Nekochan no kissaten?” I read the name of the café when we were crossing the road. “How cute.”

“I think there should be cats inside.”

I doubted that, but once again, a little part of my brain hoped otherwise.

There _were_ cats.

Lots of cats.

I halted right after we stepped inside and barely registered that Ryuga closed the door behind me, making the little bell ring the second time. The interior was all warm, kind of sepia tones, smelled of coffee... and was full of people. I couldn't see any free tables.

A waitress in a cinnamon brown apron and cat ears fixed on her hair approached us. She greeted us with a little bow and showed to probably (or at least in my mind) the last unoccupied table. It was tucked at the very end of the room, far from any windows, but still cosy and inviting, maybe even more than the rest — or perhaps it was thanks to the lack of the windows?

There was a double sofa, an armchair, and a pouffe around it. The pouffe was taken by two large cats, one grey with stripes, the other black with white patches, so that left the sofa and the armchair...

_You've got this, me. You've got this._

I plopped down on the one side of the sofa and glanced at Ryuga with a little smile, fully expecting him to sit right next to me.

He ditched his shoes and sat in the armchair.

I wanted to slap my forehead.

I picked up the menu and scanned through pages. I guessed that the main attraction were just the cats, seeing that the list of what the café served was far from astonishing, but it wasn't too bad.

“Do they have hot chocolate?” Ryuga tilted his head to the side and stared at me in his typical wide-eyed manner. I glanced at the black-and-white cat that sat in the pouffe next to us, then back at Ryuga, crouched on the armchair, pale like paper, dressed in black, with his half-assedly tamed black bedhair.

_A cat._

_He's like a cat._

“Huh? Oh, yes, yes. Here... um...”

_Come on. Have a look at the menu. Sit next to me and take a look. Have a look._

Ryuga leaned forward and read the names and prices upside-down. I found the thought of biting my own fingers off suddenly very appealing.

_A clueless cat._

“Could you turn the page?”

“Yeah...”

After a while, the same waitress manoeuvred her way to our table and wrote down our order, but instead of leaving right away, she cleared her throat and stepped closer to me. She leaned to my ear and whispered one sentence that had my brain freeze over.

“Umm... I'm terribly sorry to be rude, but your blouse is inside-out.”

I gave her a mechanical smile and bowed three inches. She answered with a smile that was both reassuring and awkward and walked away. I took a deep breath.

“I'll be right back,” I said.

I found the toilet and almost ran to one of the stalls to take my blouse off and put it on properly.

“This is a disaster,” I muttered, walking out to support my hands on the edges of the sink and take a glance at myself in the mirror. My hair was a little off after the stride outside, but nothing dramatic, make-up was still on point, my eyes weren't bloodshot any more. In other words, all was fine.

Only the damned blouse. I spent a whole day in it and no one said anything. Ryuga must have noticed, just like he did the previous evening, and yet he didn't mention it. Was he making fun of me?

_No, he wouldn't._

_... or would he?_

_After all, yesterday he did say all that stuff about making dating experiments..._

I sighed and went back to my spot. Ryuga was sipping on his hot chocolate and I wondered whether the service was so prompt here, or it was me who spent so much time in the loo. I strongly hoped it was the former, the little unconvinced part of the mind be damned.

_Ah, hell._

“Is that armchair comfortable?” I asked, sitting down on the sofa. The grey cat jumped onto the armrest and I stroked its head.

“Quite so,” Ryuga replied between taking sips. “Why do you ask? Is that sofa uncomfortable?”

“Oh, no, not at all.”

He frowned for a second, looking at his chocolate. Then something must have come to his mind, as he glanced at me, tilting his head, and—

“Can I sit on the sofa, too?”

“... sure.” I gulped.

_It worked. Holy crap, it worked._

The black-and-white cat decided to take this exact moment to skip onto the space next to me. Ryuga, however, still with his neutral expression, picked the fluffball and moved it onto the other armrest, nested himself next to me, reached for his hot chocolate and resumed sipping, so I picked up my own cup and did the same. In silence.

“Do you like it?” he asked after a while, placing his cup on the table. He scratched the cat behind its ear, and it affectionately bucked its head into his palm in reply.

“This café? Yes, it's nice,” I said, setting my cup on the table as well and letting myself sink into the soft, pillowy seat. I tilted my head up, resting it on the top of the backrest, and closed my eyes.

“I mean...” Ryuga trailed off.

I opened one eye and peeked at him. He wasn't looking at me, focusing his vision on the cat instead. His ears were bright pink.

_No, I really don't think he would make fun of me._

“Oh? It's...”

_What do I even say?_

“It's calming.” I smiled when he glanced at me.

“Does it mean it's boring?”

“Boring?” I frowned. “No... I wouldn't call it that. It's nice to have a little time off and just sit back and rest.”

“So it is,” he muttered.

“In good company, too,” I added after gathering my courage.

He turned his head to face me with a slightly puzzled expression, but said nothing. Suddenly, the air felt heavy. I blinked a couple of times. I could see my reflection in his huge eyes, but most of all, I could see the way his pupils were dilated — maybe a little more than the not so bright light would normally coax, and then I was absolutely sure that he hadn't been making fun of me. And I also had a hunch that—

All these thoughts ran through in a fraction of a second, but then my mind nearly short-circuited when I finally realised that there were maybe ten inches between our noses and I could count his long eyelashes one by one if I only was able to use my brain for anything at that moment.

And his ears were deep red.

“You have a little whipped cream here,” he said. The corners of his mouth twitched up when he picked a napkin and wiped the tip of my nose.

_Someone let me die._

I wanted to cry from frustration.

_... what? Frustration? Since when?_

I let out a long exhale.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Would you like to order something more?” Ryuga asked with that tiniest smile still lingering on his face. He was scraping the inside of his cup with the small spoon.

“No, I'm good,” I said tilting my head much in the same manner as his. It seemed like his gestures were contagious. “You?”

He put the tip of the spoon in his mouth to lick off the microscopic amount of chocolate that he managed to gather.

“I'm done, too.”

Silence.

“How about...” I started, biting my lips. “Maybe a walk? Is there some park nearby?”

Ryuga glanced up for a second, apparently searching his memory.

“Not far.”

“Let's go, then.”

When we were on our way to the café, we held hands because I was determined not to let go after he had picked me up from the hall floor. After we had left the café, however, there was no excuse for it, and it seemed that neither of us was brave enough, so we simply walked side by side until we reached a regular looking park.

“Can I ask you something?”

We sat on a bench in front of a vast pond. Ducks were swimming around, picking up the pieces of bread that was being thrown by a child and her mother that were a little ahead of us. The sun was setting, melting with the muffled noises of the city around us. Ryuga's shoes were abandoned on the ground and he sat crouching, with his hands on his knees.

“Apart from now? Go on.”

“If you really were L, wouldn't dating someone be... I don't know.” I paused. “A bother? Or a weakness, or something. I mean, considering...”

Ryuga turned his head a fraction towards me and gazed at me for a moment, then back at the pond.

“It would be, yes.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Then... why would they?”

This time he didn't answer nor even looked at me. His eyelids dropped halfway down when his eyes locked onto a random spot on the ground. The warm, orange light of the setting sun settled on his eyelashes, making them seem even longer.

“ _Difficult._ ” He muttered so quietly that I wondered whether I was supposed to hear it or it was something he only wanted to say to himself, so I didn't say anything to it.

“It bored you, didn't it?” Ryuga asked a minute or two later. “I'm not a recommended choice when it comes to picking people to spend time with.”

“I'll pick people without any recommendations, thank you very much,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I'm not bored. I feel calm and at ease, and that's a good thing.”

Ryuga wordlessly stared at me for a long while. I tried to maintain the exchange, but had to look away to keep myself from blushing. It was close to impossible to read what was going on behind his black eyes, it was like gazing into bottomless well or maybe a black hole that could swallow everything it sees and release nothing in return, nothing to read from.

But I had the most fleeing sensation that this time there was some warmer tint to them... maybe?

“Thank you.”

My eyes darted back to him.

“Huh?”

“I, too, think it was a nice afternoon.”

And there was The Smile. I grinned in reply.

“Believe me now?” My eyelids closed for a couple of seconds, adding to how cheerful my face must have appeared, and then—

My hand was scooped up and the spaces between my fingers were filled with a set of Ryuga's bony ones. Neither of us mentioned anything about it, but the heat that spread on my cheeks and the deep pink on his ears were eloquent enough. I sighed.

“You look very good in this black blouse, you know?”

I wasn't planning on saying it out loud.

“Thank you. I observed my friend's habits considering dating and decided to apply some of it. Having oneself dressed for the occasion seemed one of the more prominent parts.”

That was such an absolutely Ryuga-like thing to do that I couldn't help but snort with amusement laced with something heart-warming. He had been collecting hints and tips of this kind, doing his best to understand how that whole matter worked, probably not even realizing how adorable those preparations were in themselves.

He hadn't “dressed for the occasion” when he and Yagami were speaking at the big opening ceremony of the new academic year, and here he was, one single thing in his outfit different than usual because he got himself ready for a date.

_Let's not mention he tried to tame his hair, although I admit I'm glad it didn't work._

“Having a friend can be helpful, right?” I glanced at him before turning back to watch the swimming ducks.

“It is.”

“Who is that friend, then, if I may ask? Or is it a big secret, too?” I smirked, yes, but without any trace of sarcasm.

“Yagami Light.” Ryuga curled his other hand and pressed his thumb to his lower lip thoughtfully.

_Talk about odd._

“You seem completely different at first impression,” I said with a little frown. “But you are both unique in your own ways. And, of course, you are both impossibly intelligent. I've heard you put up quite a tennis match the other day, too.” I smiled, but then it faltered. “Although...”

“Although?” Ryuga turned his head to me, not removing his thumb and looking at me with eyes wider than usual, if that was even possible.

“I don't know.” I shrugged. “We've never talked and I don't see him too often, we don't have any classes together, but sometimes... I don't know how to describe it. He's kind of... perfect? Do people like that actually exist? It's like he's working his ass off to be flawless. Makes me wonder if there is something underneath that perfection that isn't as beautiful. Maybe he's hiding depression? Maybe he has problems with his family? Doesn't get along with his parents?” I pouted. “Sorry. I shouldn't be talking bad things like that about your friend.”

“Hmm.” Ryuga didn't seem bothered by my rudeness at all.

_Come to think of it, isn't Yagami's father in the police? Maybe he's one of those working on Kira case? I've heard that Light did help to solve some case a couple of years ago, maybe he is in the Kira investigation group, too? Rather unlikely, it's too dangerous, but..._

_But if Yagami and Ryuga are friends, then what if he is...?_

_Good grief, he mentioned being L only once and my brain just can't let go of it._

“Ice-cream?” I asked, noticing a woman with a pulley making her way further down a path across from us.

Ryuga nodded and swung his legs down to step into his pitiable shoes. He didn't release my hand and it made my heart beat stronger for a moment. I hoped my own hand wasn't getting sweaty.

“Or... aren't you hungry?” he asked right after we started walking.

“We can get ice-cream and eat it on our way to some restaurant,” I offered.

After we got our ice-cream (Ryuga's ordered 3 scoops: strawberry, chocolate, and cream, with chocolate icing and sprinkles), we lazily turned to one of the exits.

Still holding hands.

“There are two sushi bars, a McDonald's, and a pizzeria nearby,” Ryuga said, biting into the waffle. He had managed to finish all of his ice-cream while I was still dealing with the second of my three scoops. “What would you prefer?”

“Pizza?” I mused. “How about you?”

“Pizza sounds good.”

The sun had gone below the horizon a while ago and street lamps were switching on one by one, attracting moths. I glanced at Ryuga, whose free hand was shoved in his pocket, and his face was just as calm as usual, but not quite blank. While I was trying to process what exactly his expression was, I noticed that he had a bit of the chocolate icing below his mouth. I gulped.

_This is what they call The Opportunity._

“Um... Ryuga? You've got something...”

He turned his face to me with his eyebrows slightly raised.

His ears were pink.

_Wait._

_He knows._

_He knows he's got chocolate there._

_I bet he did that on purpose._

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and brought my hand to wipe off the little drop with my thumb.

“There.” I gave him a content smile, not failing to notice that tiniest flash of surprise, confusion, and even kind of... disappointment in his eyes. I decided to seal that by moving the same thumb to my lips and licking the chocolate off.

_Would he pick it up as a challenge?_

_He totally might..._

_On the other hand, he can be clueless, too._

_But not this time, I think._

We entered the pizzeria, which luckily wasn't as busy as the cat café, and took a window seat. It seemed that Ryuga had learnt from the previous time and sat next to me. Once we placed our orders, he stared through the window — or maybe he watched our reflection in it — and ran his free hand through his hair. His other hand was still laced with mine.

“What are you doing when you skip lectures?” I asked suddenly before I bit my tongue. It wasn't any of my business, after all.

“Working.” He gave me a small smile and brought his index finger to his lips. “But the rest is a secret.”

I tilted my head to the side.

_He sure keeps up with the L story._

“So you work for a living, then? That's awesome, I'm still financially dependent on my parents.” I scowled. “I work part-time at the university library, but that's not enough to live from, and I don't have enough free time to do more than that. I barely manage to fit it with studying for exams like as it is.”

“And yet you spend afternoons with me so I could catch up on your notes?” Ryuga was observing me and if I were someone else, I might have not caught on it, but he definitely seemed insecure.

_Right. He didn't need any of my notes to begin with._

“Yes. I do...” I mused.

“While you could've spent that time studying. I didn't need them.”

I shrugged.

“I was going through the notes along with you, so I was revising them and kind of studying, too. Besides, it's healthy to have an hour off and sit back.”

“I see.”

“Also...” I bit my lip. “I liked the company.”

Maybe I didn't realise that until much later, but I did enjoy being around Ryuga.

He mulled over my words, observing a waiter coming with our order. Once our pizza was on the table and we were alone again, he tilted his head to the side, pulling away one of the slices.

“Does it mean this is our 14th date?”

I choked on my bite and he let go of my hand to pat me on my back. I took a deep breath.

“I— I think that the counting begins when it is _called_ a date,” I said. “And did you really invite me to the cafeteria like that 13 times already?”

Ryuga nodded, munching on a bite of his Hawaiian.

“Wait...” I began slowly, frowning. “So you _did_ think those were dates...?”

His ears went aflame in a matter of seconds, making the answer obvious before he had a chance to admit or deny. I decided not to torture him with questions from the “what if I weren't single” shelf. Instead, I smiled at him and we ate in silence while the world outside gradually switched into night time.

“Would you like to see a match with the volleyball national team?” Ryuga asked when there were only two slices left.

“Huh?” I raised my eyebrows, reaching for one of the two slices. “I haven't been to a match since I graduated high school. I've never been much interested in volleyball past the school level, but now that you mention it, it would be interesting to see how Bokuto is doing.” I gazed through the window for a moment. “But would you even be okay with that? You don't really like loud, crowded places of that sort, do you?”

Ryuga sighed.

“Not really, no.” Then he smiled. “But I could go with you.”

I rolled my eyes.

“No, not if it makes you uncomfortable in any way. Dates are supposed to be fun and make you smile. Crowds—”

I stopped.

“You mean you want to go on another date with me?” I stared at him with a slightly dropped jaw.

Now that I knew where to look, I could see that he was all pink again — or at least, his ears were. It was nearly ridiculous how often that happened when I compared it to how I used to think that he couldn't blush at all. It didn't stop him, however, from pulling The Smile, the one that easily melted my heart in 0.3.

_Sign me the hell up._

“If you want to.”

“Yeah, I do,” I said with a shade of wonder.

We finished eating and left the restaurant after paying. I stretched and sighed.

“This was a great day, thank you.” I smiled warmly.

“You are welcome.” Ryuga nodded. “Would you like me to call... my driver?”

I paused.

“How long would it take to walk from here to my flat?” I asked.

“About an hour. Would you like to walk, then?”

“If you are fine with that. I mean, those shoes you have—” I trailed off, staring at Ryuga's feet. “You forgot your shoes.”

Ryuga didn't even take a single glance at them.

“So it seems.”

“Stay here, I'll get them.” I snorted. “Don't take a single step, you might end up stepping on something you wouldn't like.” I turned around and marched back to the pizzeria.

I returned five minutes later with a deadpan face.

“They are gone,” I mumbled with annoyance. “Waiter said they were thrown out, I talked to the manager and made her swear she'll get you new ones.”

“There's no need for that,” Ryuga said.

“They threw out your shoes to trash.”

“They looked like trash. And I can afford a new pair, don't worry. I'll call them later and explain. Thank you, though.” This time Ryuga took a hold of my hand without excessive flustering. “It was nice of you to stand up for me.”

_Why does he have to say it like I've just killed Godzilla for him?_

“Well... you're welcome.” I pinched my lips and averted my gaze. “You should call your driver, then, you can't walk around barefoot like this.”

_His driver._

_Ryuga has a driver._

_In an expensive car._

_He is working for his living and he has an expensive car and a driver to it._

_Oh damn._

“Yes. Sorry. I can get new shoes, though.”

“Now?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Yes.”

That was how, after thorough pavement scanning before every move, we ended up in the only shoe shop in proximity (those were the slowest 78 steps in my life). The lady inside was about to close for the night and it took a while to convince her to let us in — she gave up when I showed her Ryuga's majestic feet and promised that we'll get the first pair he tries on. After all, his feet were dirty.

6 minutes later we were back on track, hand in hand, Ryuga in his brand new flip-flops, leaving the shoe shop lady with a new ridiculous story to tell.

“What do you even do in winter?” I asked when we were waiting for green light at some crossing. “You'd freeze your toes off, and since you still have them, I suspect that you do wear boots somehow.”

Ryuga shrugged.

“If there is no other option.”

“What other options would there be?”

“I stay indoors.”

I rubbed my eye with the heel of my free hand, giggling.

“Of course you do.”

The green light turned on and we continued the unhurried stroll, mostly in comfortable silence that was laced with little glances and smiles. We entered the same park as earlier, this time desolated and lit with plain lamps along the path, completely quiet save for muffled street noise and an occasional squeak of some late bird.

Ryuga halted and pulled on my hand.

“Huh? Oh—” My voice washed down when I stared ahead.

Two figures stood a couple of steps further, blocking the way. There was something about their postures that made me want to turn around and skip away and that was what we initially tried, but then the two strangers called after us and we sped up, but then—

Maybe it was some bump on the pavement, or maybe his new flip-flops, but it seemed that I had jinxed it when I had wondered why it had been me and not Ryuga who had fallen back then at the university.

Either way, one moment we were running, then Ryuga tripped, still holding my hand, I barely managed to squeak, I was pulled down with him, and next moment we were both splayed on the ground. I groaned and raised myself up to my knees. The underside of my palm was chaffed, and so were my kneecaps, my tights ruined, and my elbow was sending the worst kind of stings all over my body. Ryuga was far better off, by some extraordinary skill falling in a way that didn't leave on him anything more than some dust.

The two guys laughed while they came closer. One of them circled us while we stood up. For a brief while, Ryuga wrapped his arm around my shoulders, but then he either flustered or had some idea and he let go.

“That was some failed show, eh?”

“Yep, like hell.”

“Anyway,” the second man added, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We've got a kind request. You see, me and my friend here suspect that your wallets would look better in my hands, so—”

For a split second I thought that Ryuga fell again, but that was far from what from what really happened: he simply crouched down and then his leg shot forward, and then that guy tumbled backwards, and then the other one jumped to us, and was met with Ryuga's fist, and then—

And then I swung my bag and slammed it into the first robber's face, and I kicked him between his legs, he fell to his knees, and then Ryuga grabbed my hand and we were running, running until we were out of the park and a whole street away.

There we stopped and I leaned down, supporting my hands on my knees and trying to catch my breath. Ryuga did the same, and for a while neither of us said anything. People were passing us, indifferent, unaware what had just happened in some boring park five minutes ago.

I straightened up.

“Hah.” I swallowed thickly and rubbed my face with my uninjured hand, not caring if I was smudging my make-up.

“Are you all right?” Ryuga asked, watching me cautiously.

“I think so,” I mumbled. I stepped closer, very close, right in front of him, and I leaned my head down onto his shoulder. My heart was hammering against my ribs, whether it was from the encounter, the run, or this proximity, I couldn't tell. I breathed deeply, focusing on Ryuga's smell. Musky, sweet, and a little sweaty.

His hand moved to stroke my back awkwardly.

My breath hitched.

“I haven't had time to be scared.” I giggled without any amusement, simply letting out the delayed nervousness, my throat clenched and the laugh smeared into a little sob. It was so stupid, to cry about it, or maybe it wasn't, but I couldn't stop it either way, and a couple of tears ran down my cheeks while my shoulders shook.

“I'll call for the car, okay?” Ryuga asked quietly, still rubbing my back. 

I nodded in reply, not trusting my voice. I listened idly when he requested some Watari to get to one of the nearest bus stops. I took the opportunity that he was partly occupied and pressed closer, not moving my arms that were hanging limp my by sides, I simply made a half of a step forward and clang to him, turning my head to the side to rest my temple on his collarbone. Ryuga ended the call and stashed his phone into his pocket.

Out of nowhere, I remembered the way he usually held things between his index finger and his thumb. I stopped sobbing. I imagined how would it look if he tried to hold my hand that way, or, good grief, somehow attempt a hug. 

_How would that even work?_

I smiled, unable to keep myself from laughing a little.

“Something funny?”

“Maybe.”

I sighed. Neither of us moved, not breaking this bizarre... hug? Cuddle? Whatever it was.

“We have to go down this street, to a bus stop. We'll wait there for the car.”

He withdrew his arm and I reluctantly stepped back, instantly missing that bit of Ryuga's warmth and his scent. We linked hands and set off in silence. The whole day was filled with so many events that left me utterly exhausted and I could sense that Ryuga was at least in some degree tired as well, so when we reached the bus stop — empty, save for one smoking kaishain — we plopped down on the bench with no intention to move an inch.

“Don't forget your shoes this time,” I said, letting out a breathless giggle.

Ryuga turned his head to face me and peer at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Can I see your hand? No, the other one.”

He carefully inspected the red, scrubbed skin on the inside of my palm. His fingers were cold this time, but I didn't mind, they felt good and cooling around the slightly burning injury. He whipped out his phone and sent some short text.

“Your knees are scratched, too.”

“I've noticed.” I scowled. “It's nothing.”

“That wouldn't have happened if I hadn't pulled you down after me,” Ryuga pointed out. “I'll take care of them.”

I averted my gaze, not fighting the small smile that danced on my lips.

“You are really nice, Ryuga."

He turned his head to observe the cars ahead of us so fast that I heard his vertebrae crunch. I didn't have to peer at him to guess that his ears were red once again.

“Thank you. You are nice, too.”

The familiar black car pulled over and we got in. Ryuga switched on a little lamp above us and reached for a paper bag that waited next to his seat.

“You know where, thank you,” he said towards the driver, presumably named Watari. The man nodded and soon we were passing the brightly lit shops and restaurants.

Ryuga removed various first-aid stuff from the bag. He took care of my hand first, carefully cleaned it up from any dirt and sprayed with some antiseptic, and covered with a big band-aid.

The band-aid was pink and had a pattern made of cookies and muffins on it.

“May I?” he asked before he lifted my legs and placed them over his lap so he could work on my knees.

This time, his blush actually reached his cheeks.

“I'm sorry, I'll have to tear your tights a little more, unless you could take them off,” he mumbled, not looking at me.

“No, go ahead.” I shrugged, doing my best not to turn into a stuttering mess. “They are trashed anyway.”

Once he was done, he shifted my legs back where they were and packed the supplies with much more focus than anyone usually would.

“Thanks,” I said, wincing slightly when my palm received a belated sting from the antiseptic.

I wished the ride lasted longer when we arrived at my flat and I got out after Ryuga and was lead right to my threshold.

“Apart from that park adventure, I really enjoyed this day,” I admitted with a smile. “So thank you for that.”

Ryuga rubbed his neck, glancing aside for a moment.

“I think so, too. Thank you.” He looked at me, and, good god, he Smiled Like That.

_Okay. You've got this._

“Come here,” I mumbled, beckoning him with my index finger. He frowned and obliged, and just when he was in my reach, I cupped his face and pulled him down to lightly press my lips to his.

They really were sweet.

Ryuga went stock still for two seconds and while I decided to stop, he leaned closer and kissed back gentler than I had ever thought possible. It was short, maybe too short, but the taste that lingered on my lips after he pulled back an inch and how pretty he looked so up close was enough to make my head spin.

And there it was again, The Smile.

“You were right,” he said. “Theory can't be compared.”

I tilted my head to the side and chuckled.

“Of course it can't.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I thought this chapter would be around 3K and I ended up with 7K400? Huh? Witchcraft.  
> *I couldn't stop myself from adding some Haikyuu!! references, I'm too deep in that bog... what is the outside world...  
> *Nekochan no kissaten - Kitty's café  
> *kaishain - kind of like a bureau/office worker, literally "company/corporation man"
> 
> Prompts are welcome! ♡


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